


renew pt II

by Lilypad_Padlily



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 44
Words: 188,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilypad_Padlily/pseuds/Lilypad_Padlily
Summary: Part 2 of the renew series
Relationships: Cresseida/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 383
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Glad to be back and ready for more angst? Great, me too. Let's start where we left off. Question for y'all: do chapter titles matter because I feel they might be too spoiler-y? In other news, I just read ACOFAS and I don't know if I should burn the book or my eyes. I just want a happy ending for everyone and lots of fluff, is that too much to ask for?
> 
> Note to the reader (who might also be in the FBI): This is Part 2 of the renew series. The series is a rewrite of the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novels written by S.J.Maas. I didn't vibe with ACOWAR and I felt ACOMAF set it up for failure so here is my attempt at writing the story I would have wanted to read. That being said, it follows some original plot points but in general, should be seen as a different story. I do not own these characters. Any disturbing content (see fic warnings) will have a warning on the chapter. I accept and rejoice in all feedback.

**Lucien:  
**

“I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have been made a Seer.” 

Elain’s sobs filled the room. Her back was bent forward and shook with each heaved breath. Nesta’s hands smoothed over her back in rushed attempts to placate her sister but Elain was too far into her sorrow. Both wore their long dresses but they had long since been rumpled, stained and ruined from the stress. Elain’s hair was a frizzy mess cascading down her back while Nesta’s braid barely held together around her head. Nesta’s eyes were just as round as her sisters, looking pleadingly at me. The fire crackled in a mocking way, offering no warmth or comfort. 

I willed my feet into motion but the finality of the night struck me dead. Elain’s tears ignited the funeral pyre in my mind’s eye. Feyre was gone and there was the chance she might not ever be coming back. Loss was a pit inside me that grew wider and wider. Logic begged me to see that mates are the workings of destiny and that Feyre was far from fulfilling her purpose with Rhysand. Instincts demanded I take Elain and run as far as I could; Rhysand’s parents had been mates and died all the same. Mates might be tools of the Mother but they could be killed too. Destiny would adapt and pick another pair. 

Rhysand’s shuddering breath shook me from my horrifying thoughts. He trembled. His eyes were squeezed shut and face twisted in pain. “You knew?” he asked quietly. 

Elain wheezed. “There was a chance,” she admitted. I wanted to cringe but resisted the impulse. Not because I was ashamed of Elain’s choices but for how those choices would tear holes in our makeshift family. I knew there was nothing to help it and yet I found myself wishing differently for my mate. I didn’t want her to feel apart from this family. After tonight I knew that would always be a dream. As a Seer, she was more closely tied to destiny than all of us and that burden was too heavy for us to understand. I’d try my best. 

My legs obeyed my next command and I strode to her side. Nesta’s eyes flicked from Rhysand to me with a cautiousness I thought long gone. The last time she had looked so suspicious had been when we first arrived at the war camps. Yet, when I came near, her hands dropped to clasp Elain’s so I could rest mine on my mate’s shoulder. 

Elain’s head lifted to gaze up at me; her face was tracked by tears. Her red eyes focused on me and read all my emotions with ease. I had her undivided attention. When I spoke, I spoke only to my mate. “You could not have acted differently,” I told her. 

Rhysand’s answering huff would have aggravated me had he not looked so utterly broken by my words. His glassy violet eyes nearly begged me to keep speaking but I knew he’d never believe me anyway. We could all say that fate was far from our hands and remove all responsibility but none of us believed that. Rhysand would not. Tonight was his fault and perhaps even Elain’s. 

But that did not mean they were guilty, only victim to another one of Hybern’s plots. Failure was not foreign to me. I had felt this way after Jesminda died, my banishment from the Autumn Court and Tamlin’s dismissal as well. Though from the looks on the three male’s faces, this was a first for them. They hadn’t lost on the scale we had tonight. 

“Hybern had us. We were blindsided,” Cassian’s hoarse voice broke the silence. He didn’t believe what he said either. His hand rested on Rhysand’s shoulder. The gesture might have been reassuring but also restraining. I stepped as close to Elain’s side as possible. It was unnecessary but after tonight, I was at the whim of my instincts. Elain, hearing me, leaned back into my touch. One of her hand’s left Nesta’s to clasp over mine. Her grip was tight.

The six of us divided the room evenly. Azriel and Cassian flanked Rhysand’s sides but their gaze rested on Rhysand, gauging and calculating. “What did you see?” Rhysand asked. He looked one step away from falling over or maybe shaking Elain until she admitted what she had witnessed.

Elain sucked in a breath, looking instead to Nesta. Nesta’s focus was entirely on her sister. Her eyes had lost their hardness in exchange for something far more sorrowful. She bit her cheek. 

“You cannot know,” I supplied when Elain remained silent. 

Rhysand’s gulp filled my ears. His throat bobbed, eyes focusing on the floor. “Nothing?” Rhysand begged. 

“Rhys,” Azriel sighed, tired and sad. Rhysand looked to his brother and they exchanged some kind of silent conversation that ended in a soft shake of Azriel’s head. 

Rhysand’s jaw tightened but he nodded. He kept nodding too like that kept him from feeling the pain. “Alright,” he whispered hoarsely, voice choked. He left us quickly, front door closing behind him with a soft click. I thought I felt the moment when he winnowed away, the ground trembled barely beneath my feet, but it could have been imagined. 

Cassian stared at the rug-covered floor while Azriel stared at me. His eyes were unknowable. His mind was churning but the only evidence I had was the impatient flicker of his shadows that wanted to swallow the room whole. He made his decision and with a soft sigh, “I am going to organize my spies and look for her.” 

_Her._ I didn’t want to say her name either. 

Rhysand was too close to the brink of his sanity to look for his mate tonight. He needed time for us to tell how losing her would affect him. In the morning, we would know where his mind would go. I prayed it would return to us; as much as I wanted to give Rhysand space for healing, we needed him too badly. Now more than ever, we needed the High Lord of the Night Court and I didn’t need to say that his mate would need him even more so. 

“I’ll go with you,” Cassian volunteered. His hazel eyes burned holes into Nesta but her focus was still with Elain. I didn’t fool myself into thinking she wasn’t acutely aware of him as well. She swallowed. 

“You should stay here for Rhys,” Azriel reasoned. 

“I can stay here with Rhysand,” I nodded curtly. 

Both males stared at me with eyes that ranged from withering to admiring. Azriel’s brows furrowed as if he didn’t know where I had cropped up from. “Rhys might try to kill you,” he said slowly. “You might need to fight him.” I thought the Shadowsinger’s words were a little obvious. Rhysand’s mindset was a little less forgiving tonight and anything could set him off. 

I thought that made me the better candidate for watching over Rhysand. I could understand his lapses of control; I knew I’d be as unstable if it had been Elain stolen. Besides, Azriel and Cassian would be far more effective than I would. Even if I did command the Night Court’s spies and legions, I was too distracted with worries for my mate. Her pain through the bond would only take away from my focus. They were our best chance at figuring out anything useful and the most I could do was make sure Rhysand remained in one piece till morning. “I accept the risk.” 

Azriel’s eyes kept cautious but Cassian’s turned grateful, though they laid on Nesta. “We’ll be back when we have news,” he dipped his head and Nesta responded with a slight nod to show she had heard him. Her hands were fisted in her lap and white as a sheet. 

They were gone in a blink but the tension stayed with us. 

“She was really taken,” Elain whispered, head bowed to her lap. “Hybern has her.” 

This was common knowledge and I trusted that Elain would share what she could but every word felt like a punch: a shock of something foreign I rejected wholeheartedly. 

Feyre was gone and Hybern had her. Amarantha might as well have remained on her throne for how much we have progressed. I could just unearth my fox mask and pretend the world hadn’t changed. Except now, Feyre had no allies with her. 

I didn’t consider Tamlin an ally anymore. I thought I knew him but if he had aided Hybern in anyway, he was gone. I couldn’t spare anymore thoughts for my once friend. He was dead now. I needed to accept that. After tonight there could be no more tolerance for any fondness towards the Spring Court; not just within the Night Court but within all of Prythian. The other High Lords would not suffer a traitor either. 

Nesta breathed out shakily. She sniffled, wiping at her eyes hastily. “If she can survive Amarantha as a human then she can survive this,” her words began unsteady but grew in confidence and fervor. She glanced at the front door like her sister would walk through any minute. “It’s Hybern that should be scared. It’s _his_ mistake,” her eyes met mine. Steel greeted me. Nesta believed her words. 

She made me want to believe them too. 

**Morrigan:**

I could hardly breathe from how oppressively hot the hallways were. Even far from the sun’s direct heat, the air was stuffy and hot. My throat was dry, lips chapped and no amount of saliva could rectify the problem. It was undecided whether staying outside, where the possibility of a breeze still existed, could have been better. Paradoxically, my body was wet. My armor layered on my thin cotton tunic shirt and churidars kept all the sweat in. A verifiable pond had formed inside my boots. 

Two weeks on the continent had done nothing but remind me why I hated the continent. Their weather wasn’t controlled by the High Lord’s magic so it was subject to every whim of the Mother herself. Unfortunately for me, this meant heat waves in the middle of winter. It took a week to figure out that the Yul-Prow mountain ranges to the northwest tended to trap the air and make the region unreasonably warm. 

Despite the weather, the Human Queens insisted I remain outside the walls of the Prow City until they had come to a decision on the High Lord’s offerings. As leaving the offerings alone with the Human Queens was beyond question, I was required to tote the offerings to and fro my campsite into the city everyday for another long day of inspection. This ritual that started at dawn would have been tolerable had Lord Remus, cousin to Queen Juno, hadn’t been required to escort me. He was an intolerable ass. Luckily, I was experienced with his type. 

The Queens finally accepted the offering. I had naively thought that, accompanying my invitation to stay inside Prow City, my escort would no longer be required to watch me. That was not the case. 

That brought me to the present, awaiting another audience with the Queens while Lord Remus stood next to me: sweating like a Winter Court messenger fox in a Summer Court desert. My mood was understandably poor.

A human guard opened the doors. “The fae may enter,” he called. This was another habit I loathed. 

Lord Remus preceded me into the receiving chambers which was a cavernous stone room with stained glass windows. There was no furniture in the room except for the five thrones placed in a semi-circle for the Queens. Their royal retinue and guard stood faithfully at their backs and pointedly opposite to me. They inspected me with disdain which further soured my mood. I felt their judgement more so than I did with the fae.

“We’ve sent the letter you requested. Does this conclude your presence here?” Queen Juno, just as bold as her cousin, was the first to speak. Yet, I found myself admiring her for this trait I detested in her relation. 

Her hair was golden like his yet she wore it tightly bound in intricate braids that piled on her head. Even in the heat, she wore a high-necked gown though it was made of a sheer cream lace that was secured by white ribbons at her neck, wrists and waist. The only splash of color was the golden sash strung over her shoulder and knotted at her waist. I’d come to recognize what the slight tilts of her thin lips meant and presently, it was mild interest. 

“Queen Juno, I will take this line of questioning. This is my city.” Queen Nuru spoke evenly. Her full lips quirked momentarily downward, painted in a crimson I enjoyed. She had odd, wide brown eyes that made her appear childlike even though her skin was creased by the years. Her unbound brown hair was streaked with grey, stemming from her temples. “Lady. We have accepted the offerings from your Lords and we await Lady Feyre’s response. Should we anticipate your departure now?”

Though Queen Nuru scared the least out of all five, I could hear the tones of hopefulness. I smiled kindly but it likely came out as threatening. “I will await further instruction from my Lady and remain here until so...at your approval,” I nodded my head towards the Queen. The offerings had been weighed and deemed worthy after countless explanations of their functions. The High Lords had been meticulous and dedicated in their attempts to ensure their treasures were appropriately received and treated. Including Rhysand. All objects were painstakingly packaged and wrapped; they also contained a brief description of their history. 

The values of each are hard to compare with one another. The Winter Court provided a deel that allowed the wearer to turn into ice and nearly be transparent. Thesan didn’t even provide an heirloom. He bottled a vial of his blood, enough for an entire city, which acts as a general antidote to all poisons. 

Rhysand hadn’t told me his plan but when I unveiled his offering, I thought I was mistaken. Wrapped in a piece of blue silk and deceptively light was a cut of femur bone, hollowed by age. It was strung on a finely woven string of hair. It didn’t take longer than a moment to see the connection. They were pieces from the Weaver and Bone Carver, the twins of death, and had been acquired by Rhysand’s great grandfather. 

He feared vengeance from the Death Gods because he had been involved in tricking them into their respective prisons. Despite their imprisonment, both are capable of hearing and seeing any living being in the entire world at any given time. To avoid being watched, he had this token made which makes the user invisible to the all seeing-eyes of either Death Gods. The misconception in the original myth suggests the wearer cannot be found by death but that’s an unfortunate error in translation. The meaning is literal instead: the wearer cannot be found by the Death Gods, the Weaver and Bone Carver. 

All five Queens had been annoyingly oblivious to it’s value. When I explained that the Death Gods are very much alive and are likely watching this meeting, they had wisely shut their mouths. It is unclear how much of destiny the Weaver and Bone Carver can determine or bring about; however, it is not recommended to suggest their irrelevance. Untimely deaths are the least of the twin’s powers. They usually take their revenge in more cruel manners: curses on descendants or the tragic death of star-crossed lovers. The least I dared hope for was a quick death. 

Further debate was postponed when the doors behind me opened for a second time. The human courtier stepped forward to gain audience with Queen Nuru. He bowed at the waist before announcing, “Another fae, my Queen, has arrived at our gates and seeks out the fae Lady Morrigan.” He barely glanced at me while he spoke. 

_Feyre worked quickly_ , I thought with relief. The sooner this business was over the sooner I could return to normal society where rooms were far more comfortable. _I would never complain about the cold Illyrian mountains again._

“The Lady Feyre?” Queen Nuru asked, curious. Her eyes narrowed on the poor courtier, near accusing him of hiding Feyre away from scrutiny. I hoped they didn’t take offence to Feyre wanting to see me before them. Their delicate senses of pride might demand Feyre treat them with higher priority; however, my list of priorities put Feyre leagues ahead of them. 

“No, my Queen,” he dipped his head apologetically. My brows rose worriedly. All of our attention was on him and his eyes flicked about. “The fae is from one of the seven Courts. She claims she is the Lady Cresseida, Princess of Adriata of the Summer Court and has urgent news for the Lady Morrigan.” 

I didn’t bother to hide my look of confusion as well. If anyone had urgent news for me, I’d expect it to come from my own court at least. _Perhaps Rhysand thought news from the Summer Court sounded less daunting than from the Night Court_ , I mused. Though Rhysand wouldn’t have known to send Cresseida to deliver a message; he had Azriel for all important information. Only Azriel really knew of the precarious relationship between Cresseida and I. 

_Ah._

Two possibilities worked their way through my mind. Cresseida was here on the unlikely chance that Tarquin had news for me. I didn’t know what the High Lord could possibly need from me unless this was somehow about my feelings for Cresseida. I rolled my eyes at that likelihood. The other option I had worked out was significantly more worrying and seemed to grow in probability: Azriel was detained and needed to reach me immediately.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i wrote this knowing full well the next chapter is gonna be a clusterf**k

**Morrigan:**

Queen Nuru dismissed me quickly but from the tilt in her lips, I suspected she would want to know more about my departure. I took up the sacks of offerings and began the long trek of lugging them in an undignified manner through the streets. Lord Remus stood by my side even past the broad stone walls of the Prow City. I was about to turn and dismiss him myself though it wouldn’t help me later with Queen Juno’s favor when Cresseida’s voice floated to us. “Mor.” 

She stood in the tall wheat grass surrounding the city where it came nearly to her hip. Her hair was a blazing stream of light under the blinding sun that divided into two thick braids cascading down her shoulders. Unease struck me that she hadn’t changed into her casual wear but maintained her armor though it was unmarred. Her expression was unreadable while the sunlight blinded me but there was a storm in her eyes. 

Lord Remus started, hand going to his sword. His lips pulled disapprovingly downward. “Put it away, fool,” she spat, white brows closing together to glare at my human escort. Lord Remus, surprisingly, listened and let his sword fall into the scabbard. Though his hand rested on the jeweled pommel. He kept his lips pressed tightly.  _ Good.  _ I had high hopes for when I came to the human lands that were dashed the moment I met with the five Queens. I thought they’d remember our efforts from the war more than all the brutality that came before and after. I had been fooling myself with dreams again. The humans were more suspicious of us now more than ever which was why we needed to act with delicacy, however annoying their cautions were. 

“Peace, Cresseida,” my voice was dry so it came out cracked. Her eyes ceased their glaring to take me in. Suddenly, I was very conscious of how sweaty I was. She was virtually untouched by the heat and I was already melting for reasons that had nothing to do with it. I nervously wiped at my forehead. She glanced between us but raised an entertained eyebrow as if to ask,  _ really? _ I licked my lips, clearing my throat. “Lord Remus, I thank you for your brave escort. I’d see a moment alone with the Lady Cresseida.”

Lord Remus was a moment away from revealing he’d sooner cut off his own foot when he thought better of it. If he wanted to spy, he’d have to raise the bar on his talents as we would not make it easy for him. Cresseida and I listened to his receding footsteps even as they disappeared past the city walls. I bit my lip when they stopped just past our range of sight. Cresseida’s sound barrier laughed at Lord Remus’s attempt at stealth. All my sympathies for the human’s much narrower range of senses vanished when it came to Lord Remus. 

“Why did Azriel send you?” I asked her, mirth vanishing. “Is he okay?”

“Azriel is well.” Her head dipped and I heard her swallow. “There has been development,” Cresseida’s eyes were blue wells of sorrow. I preferred her glares to her sadness. Her anger was far more manageable to me than her sadness. Like I was being herded towards a cliff’s edge, my stomach began to drop. “In an attempt to steal the Book of Breathings back from Adriata, Lady Feyre was captured along with High Lord Tamlin.” 

It took a moment. 

“He took her,” I stated. The day’s heat seemed far away compared to how cold I felt inside. The world spun violently around me. Cresseida was explaining, speaking but I didn’t need her to. Tamlin had been suspected when a spy for Hybern was discussed but we all dismissed him when all his actions had been accounted for. He had no method of reaching Hybern and we stopped there. As her mate, Rhysand’s pain was unimaginable but Azriel’s would be far worse. As Spymaster...as a Shadowsinger...as one of Rhysand’s most trusted friends this failure would kill him. It was his duty to see through all traps and lies; Tamlin had deceived him even while Azriel had been looking directly at him. Now Hybern had Feyre and Tamlin and, irregardless where Tamlin stood on the question of allyship, they were both in danger. Tamlin’s life wouldn’t have mattered to me yesterday but I’d accept any help when it came to keeping Feyre from Hybern’s clutches. The longer Hybern distracted himself with torturing Tamlin, the longer Feyre remained safe. 

That would never be the case though. Tamlin was irrelevant now. He was just another High Lord that had offered his neck to Hybern on his path to conquering Prythian. Hybern wouldn’t waste a moment on Tamlin when he had Feyre. The long feud between him and Rhysand was almost legendary among the High Lords. Rhysand had, afterall, fought at the last battle that forced Hybern back to his sad island. In a battle that had almost culled the families of the Autumn, Summer and Dawn Court, Rhysand had been one of the last standing. In a solo fight, Rhysand had promised Hybern that he’d die with the worms. Hybern had only escaped because the attor had literally swooped in and taken him back to safety. 

On top of all that, Rhysand had personally seen to key victories during the war. So many that the two of them had communicated in sheer body count. I wondered how many threats Rhysand was regretting ever saying. Hybern was creative and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to use all of Rhysand’s threats against him. Or Feyre for that matter. 

Her memory prompted a throb inside my skull, rattling my brain. 

Cresseida’s voice had rambled while my thoughts ran away, “We suspect Tamlin was the spy,” she concluded. “We think he was working through Ianthe, a High Priestess that had come to reside within the-” 

I laughed loudly. I remembered the High Priestess well. She hadn’t taken long to pay a visit to me to instill a sense of duty inside me to fulfill the ‘duties of my gender’. I’d hidden inside Velaris until Rhysand had kicked her out abruptly sometime later. It had been a common practice to all visitors of the Night Court to seek the permission of the High Lord but was loosely enforced. Usually the inhabitants of the territory saw to any unwelcome visitors. After Ianthe’s banishment, Rhysand had sent letters to the other Courts in an odd manner of written cruelty. He reminded them that High Priestesses would either seek his permission directly or likely die the moment they tried to enter unlawfully. All he had to say on the matter was that the Order of the Priestess had fallen far from it’s once illustrious position. 

“Ianthe would have loved nothing more than to strike at Rhysand directly,” I hissed. 

“Ianthe is dead,” I stilled, confusion dawning on my face. The air was still too like the world itself hinged on Cresseida’s next words. No breeze crested my face and even the wheat fields kept frozen in time. “She died from a sword wound to her gut.”  _ Feyre.  _ Tamlin would have used his claws, his beast’s nature a little more closer to the surface. 

“It wasn’t harsh enough,” I muttered, eyes burning. Feyre had likely used all the training we imparted on her and  _ it hadn’t been enough _ . We had been fooling ourselves into thinking training hard enough would prepare us for all possibilities. It hadn’t when Azriel almost died or when Cassian’s wing was crushed. “Was anyone with her? Why was she with-”

“High Lords Helion and Tarquin had been waiting for Feyre and Tamlin when this occurred.” I could tell the admission pained her. Cresseida’s loyalty to her High Lord was not enough to clear him of all guilt. We put so much faith in them and yet, they were not all powerful. Rhysand hadn’t even been there when Feyre needed him.  _ What good was all this magic when we couldn’t at least protect the people we loved?  _ “High Lord Rhysand had mentioned faebane. We had plots to distract Hybern from Adriata but Tamlin must have...must have told Hybern of them.”

I hissed.  _ Fucking coward.  _ “Did Hybern get...Tarquin?” I asked. Cresseida shook her head, choosing not to correct me in my lapse of formality. I breathed out but sucked it back in the next. “How did they escape? If Tamlin told Hybern of the plot, how did they escape but not Feyre?” I hadn’t meant for my voice to come out accusing but it had. My hands were clenched so tightly all knuckles cracked.

Cresseida bit her lip. She looked angry which somehow placated my mind. “We think Tamlin didn’t tell Hybern of the plot for the Book of Breathings. We think capturing Lady Feyre was...was his only goal,” she forced herself to finish. 

My gut roiled. My throat closed and I didn’t have a problem with saliva anymore. I spat to keep myself from vomiting. I walked closer to Cresseida, our eyes locked on one another. Cresseida reflected my nausea; she didn’t need to ask why I felt this so strongly. There had always been some baser level of understanding between the two of us. Being powerful, warrior fae born female in higher families had gifted us a multitude of shared experiences. “You mean to say...Tamlin allied with Hybern just to recapture Feyre?” 

Her eyes, if possible, looked sore. “It would seem so.” She glanced at Prow City. All my harsh judgement of the humans sickened me. I had thought them powerless too. That must be how the Mother views us all: powerless little creatures attempting to appear stronger than we really are. “Your Shadowsinger asked me to tell you this as he is busy with tracking Lady Feyre. I can stay here if you want to return to your family,” Cresseida offered. 

My eyes burned while I looked at the distance. I squinted at the sun, attempting to hide my tears in the pain of the blinding light. “Rhysand will need me.” 

“I know.” 

“Tarquin needs you still,” I sighed.

“He can manage for now,” Cresseida stiffened. She glanced at her hands before stepping close to me. We were barely an arm’s length apart. I focused on the silver inlay in her armor that highlighted the seashell design. Her hand reached out to touch mine. It was a hot day. Anyone’s hand was warm but I pretended that Cresseida’s was of a different kind. The one that stemmed from a mother’s kiss or a friend’s hug. “Just promise that your High Lord won’t take revenge on High Lord Tarquin; he has no excuse but he should not die for it,” she asked quietly. Her eyes avoided mine. 

Her shame for Tarquin caught me by surprise. Tarquin was young and naive; he had dreams like Rhysand but so much youthful foolishness he believed the world would become a kinder one naturally. I partially wanted to shake him until he realized that the only peace we will find is that which we make ourselves. Peace wasn’t always achieved by bloodless means and I was steadily losing faith that real change could avoid suffering entirely. I didn’t know what that said about me. 

Cresseida’s hand squeezed mine tenderly, rousing me from my thoughts. “I promise that Rhysand will not hurt High Lord Tarquin...not over this,” I agreed. I didn’t have the authority to make such deals but I had to believe Rhysand would keep himself locked away until someone could watch him. 

Mates were filled with instincts that prompted all sorts of nonsensical actions. Cassian had some romantic mist that covered his eyes to the reality of mates; he thought in black and whites and could hardly see the downside to having a mate. I know if I were to ask Azriel, he would deny the desire to have a mate outwardly but that didn’t reflect his true feelings either. Mates called to all our baser desires; we all wanted to be understood and loved. 

Unfortunately, the deprivation of a mate causes just as much intense feelings towards isolation and pain. 

Even if Rhysand could maintain a clear and sound mind, it would be difficult to convince the other High Lords of that. It would now fall to Amren or I to accompany Rhysand and ensure his decisions weren’t risking the war effort just to save Feyre. Even though I too would have fought the Mother herself if it meant getting back the woman I loved. 

As I had no delusions as to what Amren’s response would be, I had to return. 

Cresseida looked like she’d speak or move or do something else but she stood frozen. “The Human Queens cannot know Feyre was taken,” I sighed, hating myself for the path I was walking down. I could hear the arguments already. 

Cresseida stared at me in confusion, her lips parting slightly. “Morrigan...we can’t hold out on the hope we can rescue-” 

“I’m not, Cresseida,” I shook my head. I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose. I could think of no worse way to return to my family than following a tragedy and ready to launch into another insane scheme. “Feyre’s eldest sister...is remarkably similar to her in appearances,” I admitted. “None of the Human Queens will be able to tell the difference.” 

“Weren’t Lady Feyre’s sisters human?” Cresseida lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. I had witnessed the meeting between Nesta, Elain and Cresseida. I dare say Cresseida hadn’t been too fond of Nesta’s boldness or sharp tongue. 

All of my family would murder me for my next admission. It was only a matter of who got to me first.  _ I trusted Cresseida.  _ I squeezed my eyes shut but the truth came forward. “When Hybern ambushed the refugee camp, he took human hostages. Her sisters were included. Hybern drowned them all in the Cauldron trying to create his immortal army and they came back as fae.” 

Cresseida’s mouth dropped wide open. “They were Made?” she breathed. 

“Cresseida. I tell you this in full confidence that you will keep this secret, even from Tarquin. From Varian,” my hands captured hers within and brought them to my chest. “They have been kept out of this war and even asking this of them is far overstepping my bounds. I  _ need  _ you to keep it secret.” 

“What magic do they have?” Cresseida asked, eyes rapidly flitting about as she considered the possibilities. I wasn’t about the betray Nesta and Elain more so than I already had yet I didn’t think Cresseida would have believed me. Nesta, Keeper of the Cauldron, and Elain, the first Seer in centuries. It hardly seemed real to me. Feyre’s token magic from each High Lord was seeming very lackluster in comparison. I didn’t need to ask if fate had meant for all Archeron sisters to be so powerful. 

“Cresseida,” I bit out, forcing her to bring her attention back to the fear in my eyes. “No one can know until we move forward on this. I won’t force either of them to enter into this war even if it means bargaining again with the Human Queens. Neither will you,” I enunciated each word, ensuring she was nodding along with me. 

Her eyes grew sincere. “You were right to trust me. I won’t betray your confidence,” she nodded. I breathed out in relief. I stepped back to winnow but Cresseida’s hands stayed me. “Thank you...Morrigan for trusting me,” she said, voice infinitely softer and gaze far more tender than I ever hoped. I returned her smile with a brilliant one of my own, feeling I’d start glowing any minute. My racing heart followed me back home. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please accept this monster of a chapter; i was too lazy to post 2 chapters

**Nesta:**

Cassian didn’t come back the next day. He normally was absent during my days but somehow I expected differently today.  _ It must be the grief _ , I sighed to myself while I wiped beneath my tired eyes. Elain had spent the night crying. Lucien had worked well as a living handkerchief, not seeming to notice that his shirt was soaked through. I hadn’t been much better but I still refused to shed tears. I let my eyes water and burn but focused on the pain and discomfort. If I started crying now, I’d never stop. 

I could have looked to distract myself from my tears but focusing on my pain was distraction enough. There were books I had been reading but I had set them aside when Elain had burst in screaming the previous day. I knew it had to have been an upsetting vision to cause such a reaction but I didn’t know what could be done for it. Our magics were the very epitome of  _ don’t ask, don’t tell _ ; Elain couldn’t speak of her visions and I refused to talk of my magic. 

Amren and I could discuss it at length but I couldn’t with anyone else. The implications of what my magic had the capacity of accomplishing was enough to make me too uncomfortable to speak of. If I was being truthful, my refusal to speak was because of my selfish desires. I didn’t want to know what it could do beyond the tasks I specifically wanted to complete. If I could have carved out my magic, I would have. My connection to the Cauldron had only strengthened and with that, my distaste for it. 

Amren said the Cauldron was only a vessel for my magic. If I had the Cauldron, there would be no need to regularly expend magic on a daily basis. The Cauldron could act like a pantry that held my magic instead of food that I could dip into when I needed to. Until then I was forced into regularly channeling my magic into different tasks Amren set forth. All my magical ability could be summarized as equal parts creation and destruction. Amren was wholly invested in understanding my magic but I didn’t care. As long as I didn’t go insane while the Cauldron and I were separated was my primary concern. My motivation in training was for the day I would get in front of the Cauldron again; the moment would be short lived. I’d transfer every drop of magic I could without killing myself back into it and hopefully, be done with the whole ordeal. Amren highlighted that I’d always be tied to the Cauldron but we both believed that as long as I didn’t hold the magic inside me, I could live relatively normal. 

Normal as compared to now where my mind was half present and half occupied by the Cauldron. The longer I spent apart from the Cauldron, the more focused my mind was on it’s whereabouts. Hybern had stored the Cauldron in a wooden room that was expectedly unfamiliar to my eyes; nothing interesting happened with the Cauldron as it had long since proven it would not be obeying any further of Hybern’s commands. As a result, it sat in storage. Though my mind still felt absent from the present. At all times, I straddled two locations in my mind. Even when Elain had sat crying in my arms I had only been partly there for her. I only partially felt Feyre’s absence. The rest of me was trapped by the Cauldron and it’s indifference. 

I tried not to think of how long it would take to reclaim the Cauldron. How far my mind would lose itself, waiting for that day. 

It helped to be around Elain and Cassian, who felt things so fully I couldn’t help but feel the same. With Cassian gone, Elain was my only option. Though I couldn’t deny that the apathy Amren displayed was comforting if only because it made the emptiness inside feel more normal. 

Lucien had left to check on Rhysand which made the townhouse seem even emptier. The winter sun offered no warmth. Nuala and Cerridwen had breakfast waiting when I rose but they had been absent and I haven’t seen them since the night previous. Elain had been sleeping since early dawn so I left her to rest, curling up on the settee before the fire. I hadn’t bothered to change mainly because I didn’t want to wash. I was too tired and I didn’t care so much. I gravitated towards the book I’d set down the day before. I picked it up and gauged it, flipping it over to appraise the blue bindings. Yesterday, I had been so enraptured in one of the legends but I couldn’t recall which chapter it was in. I didn’t feel like searching the book so I left it on the cushion, unfinished. 

Staring at the fire was enough for now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door opened sometime later but the following silence told me it was not Cassian so I didn’t turn around. Lucien or Azriel maybe. Maybe even Rhysand if he came down from the House of Wind. But not Cassian as when he walked, he made so much noise. Each step was heavy and I had to wonder how someone who could bludgeon gracefully could also make so much racket. There should have been some transferable skill but I guess not everything worked so neatly. 

“Nesta?” 

It was not who I expected. Morrigan stood in the foyer, curiously sweaty for a mildly brisk winter day. Her eyes were swollen but cheeks healthily flushed. I was frozen. I didn’t know if I should have risen. Were we close enough to hug? Did I feel the urge to hug? Not really. Shaking hands was out of the question. I didn’t know what to do so I sat and stared. Morrigan answered my thoughts for me, lunging across the back of the settee to pull me harshly into her armor. My chin banged on the sharp metal. My nose was accosted by the heavy scent of wheat and dirt, of manure and sunlight. It wasn’t pungent but comforting. It was like home when we lived in that cabin; in the late summer when the nearby fields were almost ripe for harvest. 

Her grip was unnaturally comforting when otherwise I would have felt more intruded upon. My arms unwrapped tentatively from my waist to secure around hers. The longer she held me, the more my grip relaxed until I wasn’t so much as hugging but being held by her. Her golden hair pressed into my face. I focused on the softness. Underneath all the dirt was her sweet scent like fruit but something else, more tart, like wine or champagne. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice choked. I realized the slight tremors from her body was her sobs. I hadn’t seen any fae cry yet except for my sisters but I didn’t think of us as fae. We were Others. We didn’t belong wholly to the humans or fae and therefore were exempt from custom. My hand splayed on her back. All the muscles in my arms went rigid until she was pressed so hard against me, the back of the settee was digging in uncomfortably into my ribcage. 

For perhaps the first time in a while, I felt my mind was wholly present. The Cauldron was only a distant thought. I didn’t understand why Morrigan would prompt this reaction in me but my emotions were alive inside me. At the moment, they were a turbulent sea ready to drown me in sorrow. My eyes were burning all over again and I had to focus elsewhere lest I lose myself. But the smell of her salty tears overruled all my carefully honed control mechanisms. Tears spilled of their own volition and I hated each one. I couldn’t do this. Not while Elain was upstairs and needed someone strong. 

I vowed I wouldn’t say anything stupid. I wouldn’t tell Morrigan how scared I was or how much I wanted my sister back, annoying as she was. How offended I was that Hybern had managed to take her. How, irrational as it was, angry I was that all these warriors and none of them could have saved her. More importantly I was angry with myself for ever letting her walk out the door when the last words I had spoken to her were filled with resentment. 

I hadn’t changed since our time in poverty and I loathed myself. 

Morrigan held me despite the roiling of all my feelings that she could surely pick up. I didn’t ask but she cooed nonsensical words of comfort.  _ Feyre is strong. She knows how to survive. She’s too stubborn.  _ These were truths I knew too well but uncertainty made them seem unreliable. Everyone could fail and Feyre was no different. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morrigan released me the moment my tears had ceased. She did me the service of grabbing me a handkerchief without meeting my eyes. I wiped at my skin till it was raw. As I did, she began to speak. “I have something I need to speak to you about,” she said, voice still hoarse from her own tears. 

“With me?” I asked just to fill the silence. 

She nodded. “This is so...fast and rushed. I wish it were any other way but we don’t have the time,” she shook her head, running her hand through her untamed hair. She came around the settee to set next to me. Exhausted painted the skin underneath her eyes. Sleeping in a field hadn’t been kind to her but there was a grace to her movements. She didn’t trudge. She crossed her legs as if she was dressed in finery and not sweat-soaked armor. “The Human Queens still have their part of the Book of Breathings. They expect Feyre to appear. She was the one who they trusted. They will hand her the Book and no other, I am sure of it.” 

Her eyes lifted to set on me. I was thrown by the expectation in them. My eyebrows drew close. Realization dawned, “You wish me to act as Feyre,” I breathed. Too many emotions touched me like they’d been stored away for so long and rushed to meet the air. I didn’t think I was a good replacement for Feyre. We were similar in appearances and nothing else. Even in looks, I was only a slight resemblance. I had none of her softness, her naivety and confidence.

Morrigan was still staring at me. She had cut her lip from chewing on it. “Only one human has seen Feyre and his pigeon-sized brain wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. They only know your sister through her letters and nothing else. We would be with you,” she rambled, hand gripping mine tightly. 

Though she took so many liberties in touching me, I was shocked that I was not repulsed. 

“I didn’t want to bring you into this,” she added, sighing shakily. Her other hand raised to her teeth and she bit the nail. “I thought to keep you and Elain as far from the war but I don’t know what else to do.”

“What other choice do you have?” 

Her eyes told me enough. “We can try to bargain again but they don’t trust us anyway. They’d likely think we threw Feyre in a box and sent her down river than she was kidnapped by our enemies.” I kept quiet. Morrigan didn’t know me well enough yet so she kept speaking, “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she whispered to herself. “I told Cresseida,” she admitted like I was her parent, ready to scold her. I wasn’t horrified so much as shocked. Morrigan continued to provide details of her crime like it was the only way her soul could bear the sin. “I told Cresseida that you and Elain were Made and I think I made the worst mistake...I should have waited...I should-” 

“Helion already knows,” I added but Morrigan was beyond reason. 

“She is from the Summer Court and we know how tentative relations are there. I risked  _ you  _ and  _ Elain  _ in a stupid moment,” she slapped a palm to her forehead. “I’m sorry Nes. I shouldn’t have spoken…” she removed her hand from mine, staring dejectedly at her lap. Salt met my nose again. She whispered, choking on her sadness, “Feyre would have been disappointed in me.” 

I couldn’t contradict that statement. I think the only way Feyre could manage the guilt of what happened to Elain and I was by vowing to keep us from the war front even if it killed her. But I had grown enough to see that I couldn’t blame her for what fate had so obviously concocted. 

Which prompted me to nod. “I’ll do it, Morrigan,” I sighed. Her eyebrows shot up with her head. Her mouth gaped a little. I might regret it but I kept nodding anyway. 

**Rhysand:**

I thought the House of Wind would be a retreat but I was an idiot. It smelled of lilac and that was enough to remind me what wasn’t there. Like a sadist, I kept returning to the dark mental bond that wouldn’t yield no matter how much I leaned on it. It was quite different from when we had closed our minds to each other. Faebane eliminated her presence entirely. I couldn’t sense her emotion, her magic or her life. 

The presence of the mating bond alone told me she breathed but everything after that was gone. Vanished like her. 

I didn’t know what would happen when the faebane wore off. They might have the sense enough to keep her heavily dosed but there would be gaps. I could not decide if silence or hearing her voice would be worse. I wouldn’t delude myself that not knowing at all was far more painful than knowing; however, my nightmares would decide for me. They would surely be my own personal form of hell. 

I vowed to reach her before they could dose her. I’d keep my mind open for when hers became available. If she was asleep, I’d wake her. I’d reach her somehow and let her know I was coming for her. She needed to know that we wouldn’t leave her there. We wouldn’t forget her. 

How capable I was of fulfilling that promise would be questionable. How far was I willing to go to sacrifice duty? While Hybern had my mate, I could justify anything. As fucked as it sounded I knew I had no choices in the matter. 

I followed Feyre’s smell to where her closet was kept. We’d never combined rooms, busy as we were. Though she had largely spent all her time in my bed, in my room down the hall. This room was a full bedroom and yet she only used it as a dressing area. A spacious area with an armoire that nearly took up a wall. The room bled into an open balcony with a view of the mountains Velaris rested against. Long, heavy curtains of white and silver could be drawn shut but she had left them open. They flapped gently in the morning light.

Her dresser and mirror was set adjacent to the door. The last wall backed the headrest of her bed, never slept in, and the door to the large bathroom. The room served as a bedroom to guests of the Night Court; I anticipated a lengthy courtship and had received so much more. I was glad this room served as her storage. She could collect whatever she wanted. It made me happy. Her closet was fuller, I noted with a small smile. All the dresses I had ordered for her. A million folded spares of her training clothes, tunic and churidars ready for battle. Extra sword belts and scabbards hung over the door to the armoire. Her shoes were kicked around haphazardly. The only piece not included was the dress I kept for Starfall. 

I was privately relieved Nuala and Cerridwen left this space untouched. I could almost see her rushing about to get ready. We never had much time for revelry so when the chance arrived, we rushed to make the most of it. I believed even in peacetimes she wouldn’t have spent much time dressing. Getting Feyre to sit still for a moment was a task unless I also provided the invitation of climbing into my arms. 

My fingers traced the sleeve of a dress. Tears spilled but I barely noticed them. 

I retracted my fingers quickly. Touching it removed the scent and for the moment, I wanted to be drowned or burned or struck dead by the comforting lilac. Anyway I could to escape the all-consuming panic of my mind, I tried. Right now, it was working just a little. 

I stepped away when my thoughts went back to Starfall.  _ A week from now.  _

I turned from the closet to banish it from my thoughts. The longer I stayed in the room, the less dramatic the scent of lilac became. It was like how water slipped through my hand no matter how hard or tightly I cupped my fingers. It was inevitable. I made a mistake in coming into her dressing room. I had invaded a part of her home here for my own comfort and now it wasn’t hers anymore. Her scent was already fading from it, replaced by my own and in a matter of days it would be just another room. 

Being a sadist, I couldn’t help my rumination. 

Everytime we had come here, she’d use this room for all her dressing needs. There was something mysterious about the room to me. I could envision her selecting her outfit with a discerning eye that seemed to be a part of a complex and time consuming process. She’d transform from a warrior to a High Lady in here and do it with such ease, it could have been evidence of her magic. Now that I stood inside it, all that awe faded to reality. It was an empty room that wasn’t magical but sad. 

The likelihood that she wouldn’t be using this room when Starfall arrived only made me even more bitter. I’d imagined the night for months and now it mocked me. Even in the heart of my darkest years, Starfall was a reprieve. Even when Amarantha kept me captive in her bedchambers, I could be comforted in the knowledge that my Court was celebrating somewhere. I could rest knowing they were safe and maybe smiling. 

With Feyre gone, I didn’t know if I wanted to join them in that revelry. It might be better to make the appropriate toasts and retreat to my own quiet. I’d take away from the night otherwise. I couldn’t hope to improve upon the celebration and all my grand plans seemed laughable without Feyre now. 

My eyes caught something gold. As Feyre rejected all jewelry, it was particularly suspect. At first, I thought it might have been the earrings but she’d kept those close. She was probably still wearing them which likely meant I’d have to get her new ones. That thought made me smile in the slightest of ways. 

_ She’d come back _ , I assured myself. I crossed the room to inspect the jewelry when I realized my mistake. 

An opulent golden ring, set with a large emerald and encircled by blue sapphires to mimic a flower sat innocently on the dresser. Surrounded by dust, Feyre must have forgotten it even existed. 

I peeled my lips back to bare my teeth. I snarled so loudly, it echoed off the white and black stone walls. Before I could restrain myself, I had thrown the ring out the open balcony to my left. It blinked out of existence before my eyes could follow it’s descent down the mountain side. I took a step forward like I might have followed it down. It took no effort at all yet I stood heaving, fists clenched at my side so tightly blood dripped onto the floor. 

I could have seen red. 

I wanted to paint everything red. It was all worse knowing that Tamlin had been responsible for this. I should have killed the male when I had the right to do so. Insult to injury, the ring stood like a stark reminder of why trash needed to be taken care of early. If I didn’t gut the male myself, I’d gut the person who beat me to it. 

“Rhysand?” 

_ Lucien.  _

His careful voice echoed quietly in the room, broken up by the thudding of my heart and my deep breaths. It was easy to go from angry to irritated. Any emotion was easier than grief. 

“What, Lucien?” I asked, not turning to face him. My shoulders were hunched. All my muscles were tense. He should know not to come any further.  _ He should have the good sense to stay away _ , I hissed. Momentarily, I was blindingly angry at Cassian and Azriel for letting Lucien watch over me.  _ Brothers _ , I huffed bitterly. 

A pause. “Come to the townhouse,” he insisted. Whether he had seen me chuck the ring from the balcony or not, he didn’t mention. Interrupting me when I felt so near to bloodlust wasn’t wise but it kept my mind focused on my anger instead of my pain. The light made him glow in the room. He looked more natural standing in Feyre’s light-bathed dressing room than I did, swathed in shadows and misery. 

I could have been difficult but it took too much energy. It was easier to just nod and follow him out. Sinister impulses swamped my brain. More than anything, I wanted to pick a fight. I knew how to and how to do it so convincingly that Lucien would be none the wiser to my intentions. So I did. “Does this change your opinions of your High Lord or do you still believe the male is redeemable?” I asked in a deceptively amicable tone. 

Lucien shook his head, eyes flicking to me while we walked side by side. “Tamlin is not my High Lord, Rhysand,” he sighed. 

“You still believe he can be good?” I pushed. He opened his mouth but I continued like I hadn’t seen. Self-destruction was so comforting at the moment. “Of course you would. You are  _ loyal _ to him and that means blanket excuses-” 

“Not at all,” he replied quickly. 

“You can watch as he hurts whoever-” 

“No and I never-”  
“Afterall,” I paused in the hallway, cocking my head. “Isn’t that what you’ve always done?” 

It took less time than I predicted but Lucien did strike. Just not in the way I thought he would. His hands gripped the neck of my armor, dragging me a hair's breadth away from him. I didn’t bother raising any defenses. I was wishing he would strike me. He leaned in until he caught me dead gaze, studying me. The mechanical eye whirred quietly. He huffed, smiling in a pitiful way. My stomach was dropping. I was falling into some hole that his ridiculously sad smile created, reminding me of all the darkness that awaited me when I went to bed alone tonight. My jaw clenched. “You think I can’t recognize goading?” he asked quietly. “Six older brothers, Rhysand, try harder the next time you want to get punched,” he released me, shoving me back. 

My cheeks flamed a little from the scolding.  _ Centuries older and still just as childish _ , I hissed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucien and I walked down all ten thousand steps; at the bottom, I regretted my decision not to fly us from the House only a little. The annoyance I felt at walking was a convenient distraction. Even though my legs protested further motion, he dragged me through the streets of Velaris. I begrudgingly followed. 

The streets were cheery with preparation for Starfall. The fact Feyre was High Lady of the Night Court was a fact known only to me and my inner circle. I hadn’t read the ceremonial rights. A plan I saved for Starfall, thinking myself quite the romantic. Now that we walked through the streets, I regretted that decision. They didn’t know she was their High Lady. They wouldn’t know to appropriately mourn her loss and for that, my misery was kept to my shoulders. 

I think Lucien planned on thoroughly exhausting me; I refrained from correcting his misconception that I was that weak. I hadn’t gone through training in an Illyrian war camp to be exhausted by a midday stroll. Though when we entered the doors of the townhouse, my mind was curiously quiet. I could be grateful to the male for that. 

We entered dinner being served at the rarely used dining table. All members of my inner circle sat, likely having quiet conversation before we interrupted. I was secretly glad that none of them looked content. This would be easier if we all understood each other’s misery. 

_ Cauldron, I’m a wretch _ . 

Lucien and I seated ourselves. I pointedly ignored the empty chair to my right. Eyes followed me but I ignored them in favor of reaching for the wine. The wine that Cassian moved from my fingertips. “Maybe another night,” he shrugged. He ignored my glare. 

Mor’s hand slipped over my extended one. Our eyes met. Her pain was worn in her eyes so clearly. You didn’t have to know Mor to know what she was feeling. Rarely did she hide those emotions of hers; even now, her eyes were pools of grief. She offered a tentative smile before releasing me. “Cresseida took my place on the continent,” she supplied. 

“I spoke with Gilah,” Az offered quietly at Mor’s prompting look.  _ Who?  _ “The fae from the Winter Court,” he said. I didn’t realize I had spoken directly to his mind. “She agreed to help Cresseida on the continent.” 

“The High Lords want to meet on the topic of the Human Queens now that the piece of the Book from Adriata has been recovered; Tarquin has largely taken over that story,” Amren sighed. I hadn’t realized she left Velaris. 

“Helion was absent from camp,” Az flicked a glance to Lucien. “If you know a way to reach him, try it.” 

“The only way I know is crashing into his home,” Lucien shrugged. 

“Then do it,” Mor shrugged back. She sat away from the table. “Varian is tasked with watching over the Book. I suspect at the next High Lord’s meeting that will change. We’ll next need to tackle how we are going to get the Book from the Human Queens. I’ve already spoken-”  
“Where is Elain?” I asked, realizing we were two short from the table. Lucien sat next to an empty chair that hadn’t struck me as odd until I realized there were _two_ empty chairs. They watched me. 

Nesta’s fork clattered on her plate. “She thinks you’re mad with her for her visions,” her jaw clicked, eyes pinning me in a glare that said  _ tell me I’m wrong.  _ Her eyebrow lifted. Cassian’s eyes widened but he made no move to caution her, only to plead not to send me over the edge. When I didn’t speak, Nesta added, “Well? Are you?” 

How could it be the sister that looked the most like Feyre could aggravate me like no other? “I am not mad with Elain,” I breathed out. Once the words were out, I knew they were true. Even Elain having known exactly what would happen did not make her responsible; she had tried and failed. I had let Feyre go knowing Tamlin was a danger to her. I was more at fault even in my ignorance.  _ I’m her mate... _ I cut myself from that trail of thought. 

I hazarded a glance at Lucien but he kept his emotions blank. None of my court helped me so I sucked in my chest and said, “Lucien, please ask her to come down for dinner.” He raised a brow but wordlessly slipped from the room. I turned back to Mor. “What plan do you have for the continent?” The situation was hopeless from my position. Feyre had concocted and exacted the plan to retrieve the Book from them. I may have recruited her but it was her character that convinced them. We needed her. 

Mor’s gaze drifted to her plate in an odd show of shyness. “We needed Feyre for this,” she sighed. My mate’s name placed a damper on the table. Speaking it aloud made her absence real and noted. “So we will give them Feyre.” 

Cassian, Azriel and I drew back in confusion. Amren sipped patiently at her glass of blood. My thoughts connected while Mor’s head swung to look at Nesta. I was glad I hadn’t yet taken a bite of my dinner as I would have thrown it up in the next moment. The only thought worse than Feyre’s absence was her replacement. 

Cassian’s fork scraped the table when he went rigid. 

“Only one human met Feyre for a short time. Dressed in Feyre’s armor, he wouldn’t know the difference. None of them would,” Mor supplied quickly, gauging the silent outrage in Cassian’s dark eyes. Nesta sat quietly. There was an apology buried deep in Mor’s voice but I didn’t think Cassian was hearing it. I bowed my head, rubbing the bridge of my nose while I fought with my stomach. 

Amren shook her head. “They can’t be that stupid. Nesta does not act like Feyre.” 

“The goal isn’t to spend the winter in their city, just long enough to get the Book,” Mor shot back. 

“And hand Hybern  _ another  _ Archeron sister?” Amren hissed, hands gripping the table. Her teeth were bared. I thought I’d pass out. All eyes went to Amren and then to Nesta. “I know you have been off and away on the continent but you can’t have become so far removed as to think Hybern  _ isn’t  _ looking for Nesta. The moment she leaves Velaris, every tracking spell Hybern has concocted is going to alarm.” Cassian dragged a hand over his jaw, hissing in like Amren had struck at him.

“Then find a way to ward me  _ outside  _ Velaris because I have already agreed,” Nesta politely brought a cut of chicken to her mouth. Her eyes were glued to her plate. 

Amren huffed. 

“But you aren’t Feyre,” Cass replied, eyes digging into Nesta. 

“They’ll have heard by now that Hybern has Feyre,” Az’s eyebrows drew close together, questioning Mor with his prodding eyes.   
Mor pursed her lips, eyes going back to her plate until her and Nesta looked like scolded children. “Cresseida agreed not to mention Feyre’s capture to the Human Queens.” 

“Did you tell her why?” Lucien asked tightly from the entryway, Elain tucked under one arm like a precious package. She hadn’t dressed for dinner, still in her rumpled and stained gown from yesterday. Her hair was a frizzy and matted mess, skin rubbed raw. She was sad enough for us all. I tried to prod for anger but it didn’t come. Feyre was her sister too. 

Mor’s cheeks reddened. “I did tell Cresseida that Nesta and Elain were Made.”

“What?” Lucien hissed back, tightening his grip on his mate. 

“And I did tell her that it was from Hybern’s Cauldron.” And I thought  _ I  _ had done an admirable job at riling Lucien’s temper. His face was flushed, jaw so tight I could hear the teeth grinding. He was the exact opposite of Cassian who sat frozen in his seat next to Azriel, staring at Nesta and Mor like he didn’t know them. 

“What were you thinking?” Lucien yelled out. “You’d have to be without senses to not know Nesta isn’t natural. She has so much magic inside her, ward or not, she’s as subtle as the Wall coming down.” 

“They’re human, they’ll think she’s as unnatural as all fae are,” Mor snapped.

Lucien snorted. “They’re human, not idiots, Mor.” 

“When it comes to magic, there isn’t a difference,” Mor retorted. “If you can’t make a ward for her, then we can go to Helion.” Nesta grunted, lips curling in distaste. 

“Helion already knows Elain is a Seer,” Amren considered, looking at me from her head of the table. “If he can keep a few of our secrets, then maybe he could keep this one as well.” Mor and Lucien glared at each other. If the table hadn’t separated the two, we would have a full on brawl. I sat back in my seat, before my untouched food and watched quietly. For the time being I was not liable for the situation. 

“You did what you had to,” Elain whispered, watching Mor and looking too old for her age. Mor’s watery eyes followed Elain, nodding as if to confirm. Lucien looked at his mate sadly. Maybe he was also realizing he couldn’t protect her from everything. 

“I did,” Mor confirmed, wiping at her eyes. Nesta rested her hand on Mor’s shoulder. 

“It wasn’t yours to tell,” Cassian glared, voice low and quiet. “You should have kept it quiet until we all spoke about this.” 

Nesta blew out a breath, eyes finally meeting Cassian’s. “We can’t be kept secret forever.” Between the two, it was harder to tell who felt those words more severely. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO READER: This chapter contains assault and sexual assault; PLEASE exercise caution when proceeding. For readers who do not want to read those scenes, I will be posting summary bullet points at the start of the *next* chapter.

**Feyre:**

The ground swayed. My stomach sloshed around in an unsettling manner. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth and too foreign for my own comfort. _Is this someone else’s mind?_ Vague facts about daemati rose to the surface but I was too delirious to examine them closely. My thoughts were clouded by a dreadful feeling deep inside. The nagging knowledge that I knew something but had not remembered it yet. All muscles screamed as if I had lifted a mountain the day before. 

_ What had I been doing the day before?  _

The air smelled like rotten fish. It was salty and pungent, only unsettling my stomach further. I would have dry heaved had my body not felt like lead; I coughed instead. Spittle coated my chin. One jerk of my hands hurtled all my memories at my conscious mind like a slap to my face. I sucked in a gasp, my back going painfully straight. I remembered my last view of the night sky before meeting the dark gloom of unconsciousness. The voices that knew me but I had no recollection of meeting them.

My eyes fought with the darkness. Faebane was still in my system. I pushed on my mental bonds. I screamed for Rhysand down the bond but it wouldn’t budge for me now. He was beyond me. My chest heaved again and this time I coughed louder. My breath came in ragged heaves; my hands were tied behind me against some pole. The bent position of my back didn’t help my struggling attempts to draw clear breath. The scent in the air threatened to overwhelm me. My eyes were watering. 

As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I could make out the small room I had been shackled inside. It was almost completely bare except for a few poles that held up the ceiling above me. Everything was wooden. There might have been a door beyond where I could see. The floor swayed again.  _ Ship _ , I thought belatedly. I didn’t know how long I had been asleep. 

“You’re awake.”

Tamlin’s voice shocked me so terribly, I jerked against my restraints which tore painfully at my shoulder muscles. I swung my head from side to side. Stray hairs landed on my face. 

His voice was groggy too. Low and almost hoarse like he’d been screaming. “Behind you,” he said before spitting. The gesture was so unlike him. So were the bitter tones in his voice. I couldn’t look over my shoulder to see him but with nothing else to do, I committed to finding him in the darkness. Inching my feet closer to my butt, I scooted myself up the pole to spin around it. Without the capacity for grace, I plopped down in front of Tamlin. 

We were almost four paces apart yet his voice carried in the empty room. He was tied similarly, against a pole. Yet he looked considerably worse for wear. His face was swollen. One eyelid was completely closed and a grotesquely dark shade, blending in with the black room. The other green eye glowed dimly at me. His lip was split and blood spatter coated his neck. 

The lurching of my heart was followed by the fire in my veins. I remembered all that he had done. Every terrible deed was his fault and whoever brutalized him hadn’t been harsh enough. I was maybe leagues away from my home, my family and this male was responsible for it all. Whatever awaited me above deck was his doing. “Where are we?” I hissed, glaring. 

He huffed, like he had seen the switch in my demeanor: the moment I remembered his crimes. “On a ship,” he supplied unhelpfully. 

I glowered. “Start fucking talking,” I demanded, keeping my voice as quiet as his. My ears, as far as they could hear, couldn’t hear anyone nearby but I didn’t want to tempt that. As much as I wanted Tamlin to tell me what trap he had set for me, part of my mind didn’t want to know. I was being pushed steadily towards a cliff and whatever awaited me beyond the door. My heart was thundering but I swallowed my fear. I would figure this out. I would. 

But these walls looked so much, and yet nothing alike, the stone ones from Under the Mountain. These shadows could have hidden Amarantha. I was back in captivity again. Back with Tamlin at the mercy of some monster but this time, there was no noble cause for me to fight for. I wasn’t here to declare my love for this traitorous bastard. I was here for survival and that was the hard truth, threatening to undo me. In all my years, starving in a cabin with my family, death loomed over our heads. On this ship, death took a more active role and would eagerly assault me. Death smelled like rotting fish at the moment. 

“Hybern has us,” he acknowledged. 

My temper flared. Wrath was hot in my veins and I direly wished for my Autumn Court fire. I wanted to melt the skin from his bones. “Because you  _ gave  _ us to him,” I snapped. “You bent your fucking knee to that monster. It’s your fault we are here. Hybern had you from the start. You’re no better than a worm,” spit flew from my lips, my eyes were wild. I might have finally shapeshifted in that moment as Tamlin’s eyes widened at the sight of me. 

Once I had started, there was no stopping. All my rage came from deep inside like an angry swarm of bees. I was angry,  _ yes _ but more than anything I was ashamed. I hated myself for ever trusting the male in front of me to have my back and now I was likely to pay dearly for that misstep. Tamlin had delivered us into Hybern’s awaiting hands but I allowed myself to be lured as prey. 

“Now he is likely going to kill us both because you’re weak. You’re a traitor to us all, to your people,” I heaved, my eyes were burning. My anger burned up into desperation. There was no escaping the inevitable turn my thoughts took. Hybern likely had a chopping block with our names on it.  _ I hadn’t even told Rhysand goodbye _ , I thought helplessly. 

“I thought Rhysand had twisted you from me but now I see you were always this thing,” he shook his head, voice slow. I barely felt the insult. I knew Tamlin well enough to know that he didn’t mean his words anyway. His voice was heavy with guilt and I hoped he would choke on it. 

“Twisted me from you?” I wheezed, my head falling back to hit the pole. I shook my head, laughing bitterly. “You did that all on your own,” I admitted, eyes going back to meet his. He breathed deeply through his mouth. His eyes followed my silhouette regretfully. “You rather me caged and subservient, ready for fucking and dinner parties,” I laughed. The sound echoed lamely. I felt a special pride in how his nostrils flared at my words. 

I didn’t really care what I said to him. I only wanted to twist the knife I stuck inside him. I wanted him to beg forgiveness. I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain that threatened to cave my chest in. A loss was growing inside me and it would swallow me whole soon enough. 

“I was your High Lord-” 

“You are  _ no one’s  _ High Lord now. When I escape, I will sever your head myself because you are no better than Hybern’s soldiers now,” I chuckled darkly. “That is if Hybern doesn’t beat us to it,” I sighed out. The tension in my muscles left me. My shoulders dropped though they ached from being tied back for so long. I no longer felt warm. In fact, I was colder than ever. Empty and hollow. All my rage was a bravado to hide the scared girl I felt inside me. 

My wrists were shackled with a metal that dug into my wrists, rubbing them raw. Where the skin had broken was a painful, stinging sensation that likely meant they had been warded against my strength. They might be coated in faebane. My joints protested the cramped position I was forced into. My stomach demanded food but the sway of the ship made me too nauseous to even consider my hunger. It felt good to scold Tamlin but when my energy ebbed, I was left alone in my misery again. Alone to face my own fear. 

The longer no one came for us, the longer my worry took bites out of my sanity. Was this the day I died? My thoughts turned from my fears to the irrational concerns that somehow bothered me more.  _ Rhysand didn’t know where I was. I didn’t even know if he was safe. I had no idea as to the outcome of N’simura. _ For all I knew, someone had died. My eyes burned. I had to trust I would have felt something had Rhysand been hurt so gravely. With faebane still inside me, I couldn’t reach him. 

I wanted to tell him silly things like  _ I would be okay _ and  _ not to worry _ . My mind was a tumbling duality of thoughts. Rhysand should know I could be strong for myself now. I would keep his secrets safe and I would find a way back to him. But my heart was also thudding so hard against my chest, it ached from doing so. I was terrified too. Cold sweats made my skin shiver. I wanted to know if he would come for me. I wanted to be taken from this nightmare. Close my eyes and wake up on the beach in the Night Court with my mate holding me tight. 

_ Why had I left the safety of our tent?  _

I knew whatever was beyond the door would seek to hurt me. Now, it was up to me to find whatever strength I had and face the coming terrors. There would be no friends or family here to save me. I would have to hold out until they came for me or I found a way to escape myself. If I focused on finding an escape route, I could make it through this.  _ I hope.  _

Cast in the dark, it was impossible to tell how long we sat in dejected silence. When my eyes couldn’t adjust anymore to the darkness, I closed them. I kicked out my leg to somehow gain a scrap of comfort but a bone-deep ache shot up my thigh. I could just make out the makings of a bandage in the dim lighting. The area felt numb but I could make out a dark stain. I sniffed closer.  _ Licorice.  _

“One of Hybern’s healers bandaged your thigh,” Tamlin provided, letting his head hang past his shoulders. “Cleaned it out and applied some drush root.”  _ That explains the licorice smell _ . 

“An odd waste of resources,” I assessed. Tamlin stiffened at my comment. Raising his head slowly, his beaten face met my eyes. His one eye capable of seeing past the inflammation was filled with a deep sorrow. I breathed out, not knowing if it was relief or dread that caused my shoulders to drop. “They mean to keep me alive.” 

He glanced away. 

“You’ve done this to me,” I whispered. My eyes burned painfully and this time, I didn’t try to keep my tears back. “You’ve taken me from my mate, my family...my home and likely have killed me.” 

He choked, tears streaming from his eyes too. He couldn’t meet my harsh gaze. “I didn’t mean-” 

“You have killed me twice now Tamlin,” I spat out, hot and wet tears splattering onto the wooden deck below. I knew now what awaited me beyond the door. Perhaps for Tamlin, he would receive the axe. Hybern didn’t need him anymore and Tamlin had already shown his loyalty was swayed so easily. He would get a clean death. Maybe I’d inherit the Spring Court title that way and Hybern would realize what a delightful prisoner he obtained. Either way, Hybern wanted me as a pet. 

His mouth gaped, a choking noise rising from his throat. 

Whatever he would have said was lost in the door finally opening. A burst of light from the hallway blinded me with the image of a tall silhouette. They carried a torch into the room. I squinted up at them but my eyes were still adjusting to the bright light. Footsteps approached and paused besides me. I glared up, ready to spit on them. 

It was the male from before. The one who had knocked me unconscious. He offered an unsightly grin. His eyes were unreadably dark. “It seems we were destined to meet again, Cursebreaker,” the old nickname caused me to furrow my brows. “Come now. Can’t forget an old friend though I was considerably more quiet last time we met.” I drew a blank. The voice was completely foreign to me. I was positive I hadn’t met this male before. I knew for certain I hadn’t done something to warrant the anger that glowed in his eyes like embers from a fire. 

“He’s Jurian,” Tamlin grunted. 

Jurian scowled at Tamlin but I continued to stare at the male. “How?” I breathed. A piece of fingerbone and a scrap of consciousness magically tethered to an eyeball was all that remained of him. Now he was alive, whole. Or at least as whole as could be expected of the resurrected. He wasn’t even human anymore. He was fae now. 

“You’re not the only one that was Made, Cursebreaker,” he chuckled like I was a child asking a silly question. “When the Cauldron still obeyed orders, it was quite helpful and as my mind never really died...it didn’t take much effort to stitch me back up again,” he shrugged. 

“How did you-” 

An impatient look crossed his hard features. “Enough of this. Hybern is waiting for you. He wasn’t too happy I knocked you out for a day. He was expecting to meet you sooner after all,” he cut me off to crouch down near my feet. In one hand were shackles that he quickly fastened about my ankles. Tamlin struggled but nothing budged for him. I kept my fight stored away inside me for when it would be useful. I wouldn’t show my fear now. I would lie in wait for the right moment. 

When I was Under the Mountain, I wasted time and effort on struggling when the situation was helpless. Not anymore. I’d reserve my strength for as long as I could and when the time was right, I’d attack. A nagging thought reminded me that plans rarely went so well. I’d have to make sure this went in my favor. There was no room for error. 

Jurian dragged me up by my handcuffs. Tamlin kept struggling and hissing but neither Jurian nor I paid him any attention. My stomach lurched. I forced myself into a cool calm. I wouldn’t panic. 

I was partially surprised by how strong Jurian was. He didn’t need me to walk, albeit hobbled by the chains on my ankles, as he was already dragging me across the floor. One hand underneath my right shoulder hoisting me like a sack of potatoes. He led me from the room down a narrow hallway, easily accounting for the sway of the ship. His mouth was set in a grim line. His eyes flicked to me once before focusing ahead of us. I didn’t need to know Jurian to feel the wrongness in his mind. He was off kilter, evident by how distant or how painfully aware he acted. I couldn’t place my finger on it but something was deeply wrong in the male next to me like he wasn’t completely there. I couldn’t reconcile the male next to me and that watchful eye Amarantha favored as a ring. It made no sense. Some stupid and curious part of my brain wanted to ask how they could bring him into a full being with a fingerbone and an eye. 

I had yet to see other fae. It was all quiet to me but that could have been because my heartbeat filled my ears. 

He nudged a wooden door open with his boot. I thought we’d be walking into an audience but it was just another empty room. Except for the Cauldron that sat at its center. I was surprised by the lack of guards but I guessed that Hybern wouldn’t require them on his own ship. 

For all our jokes, the Cauldron had truly become an unspectacular piece of crockery. Dull grey and rusted, it had no unearthly light that Elain had described. The telltale glow of raw magic had completely transferred to Nesta and left this sad, vacuous dish in its place. The only spectacular aspect to the Cauldron was how it still managed to take up the entire room. 

Jurian chained me to a bolt on the floor so I could kneel before the Cauldron. When the door opened a second time, I knew instinctively to stiffen. The salty air had taken on a darker taint of rot. Without ceremony, the King of Hybern circled me to stand over me. He had a goblet in his hand, swirling it casually. He sipped. 

He was tall, face drawn out and long. There was nothing else so special about the King. Perhaps his eyes were darker than most and that rotting smell might have been his breath. Finally having put a face to the male, I could say Hybern was disappointing. I expected the grandeur that all High Lords displayed. The lingering darkness that cloaked my mate. His violet eyes were so foreign that they captivated anyone who stared too deeply. Or the brisk wind that followed Kallias everywhere he went, how his skin glimmered like freshly fallen snow. Even the heat that diffused from Beron was more extraordinary than the King of Hybern. Comparatively, Hybern was found wanting in almost every manner. I wished I had my magic to sense what would have surely been a pathetic display of power. 

He wore a simple crown. A blue doublet with the slash of gold and black thread. 

“You’re remarkably pathetic for a High Lord’s mate,” he tsked. He crouched before me and set down his goblet, nearly empty. I bit my tongue to keep from speaking. He leaned in to appraise me further, thankfully going no further than a hand’s breadth away. His breath smelled of stale cheese. “I thought maybe the bitch had gotten it wrong. Your likeness was very plain. I thought it would improve once I had you,” he raised a hand to twirl a free strand of my hair around his finger. “Here. Let me see you further,” he held out a hand to Jurian who handed him a knife. 

Then he went around, cutting and snipping through my armor. His fingers wormed their way into the joints of my breast plate until he found the leather buckles that fastened it. As he worked, my heartbeat was increasing rapidly. Bile was rising in my throat. I kept my face frozen, willing myself into a calm I didn’t feel. Each graze of his finger over my skin made me want to jerk away. The plate relaxed when he cut the last tie and jerked it over my head. A cold wind greeted my sweaty black tunic beneath. He tossed it to the side. I tried not to glance at the armor though it felt like a significant loss to have it pried from my body. I had already lost my sword. 

He didn’t stop there. He worked the bindings of my vambraces, tossing them aside. He lost his patience with my gauntlets and cut through the leather entirely, slicing open the back of my left hand in his haste. I hissed but kept the noise as quiet as I could. The entire time, Jurian stood where I could not see him. The more he cut away, the harder I began to shiver as my body dissolved into cold sweats. I kept my mind suspended and far from my thoughts. I banished everything from my focus. Sweat dripped from my forehead. I fought with nausea. Dread ate away at me. I hated myself for how my cheeks began to burn the closer he got to my skin. 

Hybern circled around me to stand at my back. His hand grazed my neck and rested at the junction of where it met my shoulder. His thumb ran over my skin and I thought he might have sighed. I bit my cheek hard enough to draw blood when Hybern’s hand gripped the collar of my tunic. He jerked hard and tore the shirt down my spine, using the knife to cut what hadn’t torn initially. Cool air chilled my sweat soaked skin. The shirt fell partially away to expose my back and shoulders, blocked by where my shackles chained me to the floor. 

“At least your skin is nice,” he whistled. 

His thumb hooked the tight band of my breast bindings. I clenched my eyes shut.  _ I would not cry. Not in front of this monster.  _ My jaw was so tight my teeth barked in pain but I kept the pressure on them to prevent them from chattering. His knife followed, hooking the band and slicing neatly through. I swallowed to fight throwing up when my breasts were finally exposed. Hybern came back around to view me, stepping back to see his work. His eyes looked hungry and my mouth went dry. 

I had been degraded before but that did not make me used to the sensation. Not only the feelings of vulnerability but the dread I felt towards myself. I forced myself to meet his eyes. I would not cower. All my muscles locked in protest of my shivering. My jaw kept shut to keep my teeth from clattering. I fought with all my heart to keep both my stomach and tears at bay. 

“Ianthe,” he sighed out. “Ianthe said you were Daemati. That you can speak mind to mind with others, like your mate,” the word had never been so cold to me before. He passed the small knife between his hands, toying with it. I wanted to watch where it shifted but felt torn between meeting his eyes and following the blade. He leaned close to me until our noses were almost touching. He reached up with his free hand to grab my jaw, using enough force to purse my lips. His eyes missed nothing, examining with an intensity I loathed. “Tell me, Feyre Archeron, is your mate watching now or has the faebane not yet passed from your system?” 

I kept quiet. 

He backhanded my skull with the handle of his knife, temporarily blinding me. I almost fell over from the force but his hand on my jaw kept my steady. My left eye must have rolled in it’s socket. I blinked to bring my eyesight back but it was blurry; my left field of view was slowly bleeding into red. “You will answer me,” he hissed out, nails digging into my skin. “It is enough that your bitch sister has stolen what belongs to me; you will not get away so easily.” He must have read the shock in my eyes as he laughed, tilting his head back to bellow. “Yes, I know she tricked me and I know she took the Cauldron’s magic,” he nodded proudly. “And together, we’re going to find her and when we do, I don’t care if I have to chop her into  _ little, tiny _ pieces to restore the Cauldron. And while we do so...when your magic comes back I want you to open that little mind up to your mate. I want him to know  _ exactly  _ what has become of his precious mate,” he shook his head, throwing my head back and stepping away. 

My eyes went behind him, back to the Cauldron. I burned a hole into it. I wanted Nesta to know that I would never turn. I met Hybern's eyes and forced defiance into them though my strength was failing me. Glaring at the King, I drew back and spat at his feet. I would not waste my energy by struggling but I would not roll over. 

He raised an umimpressed eyebrow, shaking his head. He tossed the knife to Jurian. He slapped his hands together, brushing them off. “For now, I can see you still think you can win this. But I am not Amarantha, little girl. I don’t let foolish obsession weaken me. I will break you and I want Rhysand to know it as well. I’ll let your old friend start the process,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Jurian, with me. We have a siege to plan,” he ordered and they left, only to be replaced by a massive shadow casted over me. 

A clicking noise greeted my ears and every hair on my body rose. Coming around to face me, the Attor stood grinning. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I wanted to give Nesta and Elain relevant roles in the war? 
> 
> Chapter 4 Summary:   
> -Feyre wakes up on a ship with Tamlin in captivity   
> -She tells Tamlin he has doomed them both  
> -It's made apparent that while Tamlin is dispensable, Feyre is not and Hybern intends to keep her in captivity  
> -Feyre is stuck between wanting to be strong and wanting to crawl under a rock and cry :,(  
> -Jurian has been resurrected by the Cauldron, he's definitely not OK mentally though  
> -Hybern knows Nesta was Feyre's sister and was responsible for the Cauldron becoming nonfunctional  
> -He plans to use Feyre to get Nesta back and to take advantage of the daemati bond between Feyre and Rhysand   
> -The Attor makes an appearance

**Nesta:**

I hadn’t slept through the night since Elain had come to me crying, declaring herself a wretch and that she had killed our sister. It was not for lack of exhaustion. My body hung from my bones. At one point, I would break down and never get back up. Maybe my mind would permanently return to the Cauldron and I would become a part of it’s otherworldly sentience. 

Maybe not. 

Wine was a comfort for me. Or beer. I could sit on the back patio, watch Velaris and pretend that the duality of my mind was a nonissue. After the dinner, I hadn’t bothered lingering. I left the others at the table and disappeared out the back door. Besides for what Morigan asked of me, I rarely participated. My last venture in contributing had been a mistake, through and through. N’simura had burned but that was a pathetic substitution for the desired outcome. I had stupidly believed they would come home ready to celebrate, maybe even return to Rita’s for a night spent in revelry. I had even the idea of wearing a color other than dark blue or grey. Maybe a slash of red. Eliminating half of Hybern’s forces and obtaining one half of the Book would have surely deserved the appropriate celebrations.

I sighed, watching my air puff in the cold night air. 

Why my failure didn’t dissuade me from volunteering to pose as Feyre for the Human Queens, I’d never know. It likely had much to do with Cassian’s influence over me. He was making me optimistic.

I raised my wine glass to my lips. It tasted like shit. Sometimes when the Cauldron was closer to my mind, my senses would fade as well. My nostrils were filled with the scent of decaying fish. Expectedly, my wine tasted similarly but it still bled warmth through my veins. A warmth I no longer needed now that I used my magic and Cassian kept so close to me he could have been a second skin. My lips upturned at that thought, not all my emotion completely sapped by the Cauldron. 

Sometimes I sought solitude because I needed a space to think. In the time I had come to know this Court, I had forgotten why I needed that time away. I was content to observe if not be a part of their happiness. Standing within a pace of Cassian made me question why I ever left his side. The comfort of being around them varied time to time but with Cassian, it was all-consuming. He was practically magnetic.

As the Cauldron continued its warpath on my mind, I was losing that urgency. Not because I didn’t care. I knew in my heart I loved the male but the energy wasn’t there. I was sapped. Smiling was draining and now I sought solitude so I could be free to indulge in my apathy, not caring that I no longer felt things as strongly. While I was alone, nothing was wrong. 

The door opened.  _ Shit.  _

I thought it might have been Cassian. The smell of rotted fish prevented me from scenting him out. The male’s energy betrayed him. It was Lucien. “Is Elain alright?” I asked, sipping my wine glass to give my hands something to do. I now could understand why Elain fidgeted. 

He scoffed. “I do have other reasons for speaking with you besides over Elain,” he took the seat to my right. He seemed taller now. Or maybe the training with Cassian and Azriel had done him some good. Everyday he was becoming even more similar to Helion. I dreaded the day he would be a High Lord. I didn’t know a High Lord I liked and I could only hope Lucien would break that pattern. Though he could be insufferably annoying with his fretting. Maybe not.

As long as he kept his fretting to Elain though…

I shook myself from my runaway thoughts. “Then what are you here to worry about?” I asked, staring at the dregs of my wine. 

His eyes narrowed. “You’re prickly tonight. Should I have started this conversation by refilling your glass?” 

“Bearing gifts might have pleased me,” I shrugged, hint of a smile flashing over my lips. The night sky was impossibly vast overhead. Even the faint lights of Velaris couldn’t dim our view of the stars. The northern lights flared brilliant green hues over the mountain side. I had to believe there was a reason Rhysand ruled over this territory, that this beauty should belong to him. The only explanation I saw was that it was meant to be Feyre’s. A view like this was reminiscent of her paintings with splashes of vibrancy and darkness in equal proportion. Rhysand favored its darkness, I thought. 

He lifted his hand and a wine bottle was swinging proudly from his fingertips. A proud grin transformed his face into a truly ecstatic male. On anyone else, it might have seemed cocky and annoying. On Lucien, it was a pleasant shift from the otherwise pensive face. His eyes glowed when I returned his smile. He poured me a half glass and sat the bottle on the table before us. 

“Are you here to tell me you cannot ward me beyond Velaris?” I sighed at the next sip of wine. My thoughts with the Cauldron were fading and I could almost taste the grapes. 

He laughed, taking a sip from his own glass. “I can ward you, Nesta. I’m not worried for that,” he rolled his eyes. He sobered. “But I wanted to see why you would volunteer for this. You shouldn’t be forced-” 

“I’m not forced into doing anything I don’t like to do,”  _ ever.  _ I had walked to the Cauldron of my own volition. Maybe when I was human I had been at the mercy of others, my circumstances but not anymore. Magic gave me control now over my life. Besides for fate, I would not allow my life to be decided upon by others. If anyone was going to fuck up my life it was going to be me. 

“I hardly think you would like to act as Feyre,” he said quietly, looking over the city when he couldn’t meet my eyes. Cassian said Feyre had adopted Lucien as her family. It seemed a little far fetched, the idea that Feyre’s instincts had made the exception without her knowing. I wondered if Lucien had accidentally done the same with her. 

_ Instincts _ , I scoffed. They make a mess of everything. 

“I,” I began with my voice tight. Lucien’s head snapped to face me. “ _I_ would like to have the Book,” I admitted. _I want my sister back. I want to never have to watch Cassian walk out the door another day. I want to have my mind back._ I didn’t say any of this. It would cause more concerns from the overly burdened male and I didn’t want to have his worry directed anymore towards me than it already was. “I would like this war to be over.” 

His features softened. He leaned back while his eyes moved about excitedly, lost in thought. I hadn’t expected to find companionable silence in Lucien. I was tempted to ask him where my other sister was. If he was here with me, I could not believe Elain would remain long at the dinner table. I blamed everyone there for the guilt she would feel. I didn’t care if Elain knew exactly what would have happened to Feyre. Elain healed baby birds and spent equal time tending weeds as she did with her exotic plants. She would never intentionally hurt Feyre, whether her magic forbade her or not. Elain would hurt from whatever became of our youngest sister, even if Feyre survived this ordeal. She didn’t need the judgement from those who would never understand her. 

“Will you rob Rhysand’s library?” My brows drew together. “When this war is over, and you eventually rebuild your library wherever it may be...will you stock it with books from Rhysand’s library or do you intend to deprive all High Lords of their collections?” At least he didn’t say anything as useless as  _ your sister will be okay. We’ll survive this. The war will end someday. Hang in there.  _

“Maybe a few books,” I admitted, chuckling with him quietly. “But I intend to wait until you come into your title and I can rob you blind. Do not think I have forgotten that the Day Court boasts the most libraries, however boring they are.” 

Lucien’s face took on a pleased smile. “What makes you think you’re invited to the Day Court?” he asked. 

“Elain would invite me the second I  _ hinted  _ at visiting and we both know you would sooner cut your left foot off than deny my sister.” He bit his lip to contain his grin but there was no denial voiced by the male. He looked actually quite pleased at the sway Elain held over him. 

The hypothetical situation was amusing. We had stepped through a door into a world that was far better than the one we lived in. It had nothing amiss except for the small act of taking books without asking. I breathed in deeply, no longer wishing for the comfort my wine offered. I was close to weeping over a world that didn’t exist. I wished Lucien would become Cassian and he could hold me. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised when the door opened a moment later, Cassian coming to stand by my chair. We were magnets to each other. There was not a place in this world where I wouldn’t be aware of the male next to me. I could shout from the bottom of the sea and sure enough, he’d hear me. Whether he came now because he felt my need or for his own reasons, I didn’t know.

Lucien’s eyes widened while his brows rose. “Oh Cauldron, spare me this conversation,” he made a hasty retreat into the house, door shutting behind him with finality.

I didn’t understand until I saw Cassian’s face. My senses were present enough that I could enjoy the cedar smell. It was almost smoky. He looked grim. Grim and tired. “Are  _ you  _ here to tell me that it is a stupid idea to act in Feyre’s place?” I raised a brow, attempting to catch him off guard. 

His lips upturned into a rueful smile. He barely glanced at me. Hewas so focused on his task. Wordlessly, he reached down to scoop me from my chair. I didn’t protest the proximity but I was close to doing so when he launched into the sky. So fast my head almost snapped backwards but his shoulder cradled me, sparing me that pain. His hands on my thigh and rib cage were supportive but tight. I would have bruised as a human. Now, I was perfectly safe in his arms even while he hurtled us through the night at speeds I’d never felt before. Night air filled my lungs, expanding my senses with the newly gained clarity. I was coming awake. Any hair that hadn’t already freed itself from my braid was now flying behind me in the wind, stretching far over his back. 

His wings arced gracefully with powerful strokes that truly demonstrated the rigor of his training. The once-cripled joint had only grown stronger after the injury. The membrane was scarred in places but was only made more impenetrable looking. Almost like it had also been given scales of armor. 

I thought Cassian meant to take me from Velaris prematurely but he stopped before we left the boundaries of the warded city. Though Hybern likely would have launched at the chance to recapture me, I didn’t feel scared. I was safe where I was. 

He flew us around the mountain to where orchards and field were kept, supplying the city it’s food source. A grove of trees was where he chose to land us. We almost fell from the sky. He barely used his wings as resistance, taking the impact on his knees without a grimace to show he noticed the pain. “Was that your attempt at impressing me?” I asked, watching the cords of his neck with interest. 

“No,” he breathed, setting me down softly. “That was an escape but if you’re impressed then I’ll take the compliment,” he shrugged. He was about to turn away from me when he spun back with a ferocity I’d yet to witness. His eyes were wide. “And I do not have to tell you it’s a stupid idea to act like Feyre because you are too smart for me to  _ have to tell you such _ ,” he hissed out. His anger was unfamiliar to me but I wasn’t unsettled. I didn’t feel scolded. I wanted to placate him and tell him that  _ everything would be alright  _ even though that would have been a bold-faced lie. It was odd what love did to me. 

“I will practice. They’ll believe the lie,” I shrugged, attempting nonchalance.  _ Believe me. Believe that I am more in control than I feel.  _

By the roll of his eyes, I knew he wasn’t convinced. “I don’t doubt for a second they wouldn’t believe whatever you told them even if you said that day was night and night was day,” he spat. He crossed his arms over his chest. I wanted to run my hand over his forearm, remove the tension in his shoulders. The more he withdrew, the more I ached to draw closer. Whether he meant to or not, he pulled me closer to him. The tether between us was taut. 

“Then what could you possibly think would fail?” I asked though I knew. 

“A million things could go wrong,” he shouted back, towering over me. His wings flared until the moon was blocked from me entirely. I raised my chin. His hazel eyes studied the imperious look I dealt him. His breath wafted over my face, huffing until he could find some semblance of restraint. His wings fell back to his shoulder blades and casted a breeze that blew back my hair. “A million things have gone wrong, Nes,” he admitted quietly. The iron will I relied on broke down. I couldn’t keep my shoulders drawn proudly anymore. He sucked in a cheek, swallowing. “They already have Feyre, I could not bear them taking you to,” he took my hand in his, thumb stroking over the skin. 

“You do not think Feyre will live,” I whispered. I couldn’t tell how horrified I was yet. The shock of my realization kept me so frozen I barely felt the words myself. 

He dragged me close to him till our noses touched. His hands clasped my shoulders, shaking me with the deep need of making me understand. “Don’t say that. Please never say that.” 

“It’s true, Cassian. You believe it,” I willed him to admission.  _ Tell me something true instead of another pretty lie.  _ I needed someone to say it. Even at dinner, no one had mentioned Feyre’s captivity or plans for getting her back. I knew Azriel and Cassian were working on it yet speaking it aloud was still too painful. But for me, the wound only festered with their silence. 

He sucked in, grip tight on my shoulders. “Hybern didn’t know your identity. He knows who he has now. I want to believe she is strong but she’s still so young...she’s got that naivety,” he laughed mirthlessly. “I can’t help but consider the worst,” he shook his head. 

I closed my eyes. I let the knowledge sit inside me, stewing. I considered it at a distance before letting the wave wash over me. There existed the distinct possibility I would lose my youngest sister. My gut clenched tightly. I thought our strained relationship might have made the notion more bearable but I was wrong. I couldn’t survive that grief. 

I caressed his cheek, running my thumb over his stubble. He enfolded me into his arms and even his wings came to encircle me as well. “You didn’t know Feyre before she came to the fae world,” I sighed, pressing my face into the warm and damp skin on his neck. I didn’t mind his sweat. The slight coating of dust brushed my skin. All my senses focused on him. “She can be hard too,” I nodded, remembering the girl with scraped knees. How edged her voice would become when she talked about winter hunts and coming struggles. All the ugly fears that manifested as anger and regrettable insults. She knew how awful the world was. She was a long way from that person now but I didn’t doubt she had forgotten that girl. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian held me in the copse with his back to one tree. I barely noticed the wet, snow covered ground when he held me. I had dozed while he held me but was startled awake by a loud  _ snap _ . My head lifted abruptly from his chest and I glanced around, on high alert. “What is it, Nes?” he asked, voice hoarse from sleep but coming to full attention at my jerky motion. He was glancing around to frantically find the enemy in the night. I should have known better than to think the enemy was in Velaris. 

I looked inward. I had company. My stomach dropped. The fact Feyre looked just as she always did was somehow worse. She had so much to lose still and I had arrived at the beginning. Cassian was calling to me but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. What was I to say? How could I possibly describe what was unfolding before my eyes? 

“It’s the Cauldron,” he drew from my silence, mouth at my ear. His hands were secured around my waist like if I disappeared from the world, he would be coming with me. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel alone and yet so firmly held. 

Feyre kneeling looked wrong. Her back was too straight. She glared at the floor like it offended her personally to even be touched by it. I thought when Hybern kept Elain and I caged that I had done a good show of remaining defiant. The venom in Feyre’s eyes gave the word new meaning. She was so behaved around me now it was difficult to coincide the half-wild person I saw now. I’d never seen her fight. I hadn’t even seen her fire an arrow before. That would surely change now as she looked as if the next person to walk in was going to be strangled with her teeth. 

“Nesta what are you seeing?” he asked quietly. He cursed when I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Not yet. I was with Feyre now. I didn’t want to split my presence of mind now. I needed to be wholly with the Cauldron, with my sister. Hybern’s entrance put my stomach on a downward spiral. His words were muffled, like he spoke through water. I strained to hear each uttered threat and insult. The smell of rotting fish made my eyes water. I could taste ocean spray. 

The moment he cut the straps of her armor, my mind reeled. I almost pulled entirely back towards Cassian’s waiting arms. I was convincing myself I couldn’t watch this but I stopped my cowardly impulses. I would be there. She wasn’t alone there. I was there and I would find a way to be there for her now when I couldn’t before. I failed previously and I couldn’t now. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO THE READER: this chapter does contain abuse, read at your discretion. A Chapter 6 summary will be posted at the beginning of Chapter 7 for those who choose not to read this chapter.

**Feyre:**

My forehead was sticky but I couldn’t summon the energy to straighten. Bile and blood filled my mouth and nose. My tongue was swollen. I licked my chapped lips though it barely helped. They were cracked and bleeding. My lower back protested my bent form and so did my knees but they had numbed enough that I could ignore the pain. One of my ankles was twisted painfully. The partially healed arrow wound through my thigh had most definitely reopened; the sensation of ripping skin causing me to flinch from time to time. 

I tilted my head, smearing the vomit on the floor with my forehead, to glance at my bare right foot. I’d lost my boot. The vambrace guarding my shin was hanging by a single tie on my calf. The Attor hadn’t been as neat as Hybern had with removing it to beat my foot with the flat of a sword. My pinkie toe jutted out awkwardly, perpendicular to my foot. The nail had been ripped off entirely to reveal a pink nailbed beneath. I could only see part of the bottom of my foot but the skin was colored in purple and blue bands. My ankle was throbbing from the repeated impacts of the sword. A few times, the Attor had swung and missed. The sharpened edges sliced neatly through my skin. The foot was more sensitive than I had ever dared give it credit for. On those occassions, I was helpless to prevent the strangled cries rising from my throat. The Attor's punches and kicks paled in comparison to the blows delivered to my feet. 

There hadn’t been any line of questioning for me, only threats of what was yet to come. The Attor didn’t ask me about Night Court forces or where our armies were heading next to reconquer the Spring Court. It hadn’t uttered a single question that could have been construed as vying for tactical information. In a way, I wished it had.  _ Know thy enemy _ , afterall. The sooner I found out more about Hybern’s goals, the sooner I could begin to build my defense. I needed to know how much Hybern knew before spinning my lies. The Attor hadn’t played along and only bragged that much worse was just around the corner.

I believed the creature too. 

I thought a regular beating like the one I received Under the Mountain was the thing’s goal but I was sorely mistaken. Apparently, I had been missed. The Attor hadn’t approved that a human was Made fae, especially when that human had killed it’s sworn liege. For centuries, the Attor served Amarantha faithfully and blamed me for her death even though Tamlin had dealt the final blow. I didn’t bother to clarify that detail though. I wanted to taunt the Attor but refrained from that pleasure. There were countless insults I could have spewed. Creative ones that made my ribs ache with the hint of my laughter but I bit hard on my rebellious tongue. 

_Save your strength,_ I could hear Rhysand's voice whispering. A memory from all the times he had watched me train with Cassian or Azriel or Morrigan. A fight could be lost by being either too hasty or too careful. It took discipline and patience to wait for an opening but the skillful would and they often found themselves with the upper hand. 

The Attor only finished kicking my rib cage when I finally vomited. Since I vomitted up mostly liquid, I reasoned it had been at least a day since my capture. 

The Attor had stepped back to appraise the damage. I had thought we were finished. A slice of it’s claws down my spine reminded me I would not find myself so lucky here. It picked up my chin and with a deceptively delicate motion, pushed my hair back from my ear. “You look like fae but you are  _ not _ , you are no better than the human you once were,” it sneered, lips peeling back to reveal dark gums and long silver teeth. “Worthless little mortal. How dare you draw breath while Amarantha does not,” it breathed, acrid breath making me wrinkle my nose. One hand held my face still while the other pulled at the tip of my ear. 

So quick I had no time to react, the Attor severed the tip of my ear off with it’s claws. The piece of skin fell to the floor with a soft _thud_ , leaving a faint trail of blood behind. The Attor had even cut in an arc to mimic the rounded human ears I once possessed. Seeing the detached skin left me with the odd sense of estrangement. _That couldn't possibly be mine_ , I thought distantly. The answering pain and warm trickle of blood that followed told me it was indeed mine. I bit my bottom lip, holding in the low groan. My ear wasn't nearly as sensitive as my foot and for that, I was lucky. 

Another blow to my stomach and I vomited again. 

It had gone on that way for a while. Careful, pointed attacks that were spaced apart by regular beatings. In whatever way the Attor could degrade me, it had. Both my ears were clipped. One had been hit so hard, my ears still rang. My left arm, displaying my bargain tattoo with Rhysand, had several long gashes through it. Locks of my hair were sliced away. It wasn’t enough to remotely kill me, not physically at least. The beatings were the more brutal side but the Attor had taken care not to break bones or rupture organs. The torture seemed light in comparison to what could have been done to me but it still shook me. The message was clear to me: I would be erased till there was nothing left of me. 

I was glad the Attor thought I was that vain. I wished the tattoo hadn’t been touched but I would survive. As for my hair and ears, I told myself they could be healed. 

But maybe I was that vain. Whether that stupid bat recognized them or had even seen them, it had left my earrings untouched. The remnant of Rhysand I carried was born of everything beautiful between us, without a trace of the ugly history we shared. My earrings spoke of our future and I treasured them though I knew it was futile. I didn’t want to part with them. Not after having my sword tossed away and armor reduced to scraps of leather and steel. They would be removed sooner or later. I told myself I’d take them out myself so at least they didn’t get the pleasure of ripping through my earlobe.

I had yet to summon the strength for that. Some awful fear in the back of my mind told me I would be unrecognizable to my mate after this. Rhysand would find me and he would look beyond me, thinking me someone else’s horribly tortured family. But not his mate. Not the mate he remembered. My eyes burned and tears leaked out even though I tried to prevent them. Hot and fat drops that splattered on the mess beneath my face. All fluids swirled together beneath my blurry vision to form a mixture out of bile, blood and tears. 

I could survive anything with the dream of returning to my family one day. But would they recognize me after this? After a few hours spent at the Attor’s leisure, I wasn’t sure I’d recognize myself. To survive on this ship, in their cage, I would have to become something else. 

I let that thought relax me. That was what I would do. I would adapt and survive. Transform into a creature that could survive without light or love. Like it or not, I had Spring Court magic in my veins. Shapeshifting was a part of me too. I’d pull on every strength I had and I had many, beyond what Hybern was aware of. He thought me Daemati when I was so much more. I might not have experience or talent or even luck like my inner circle did but if their training had imparted anything on me, it was perseverance. 

I willed calm into my veins. Several, deep breaths in and out even when my ribs and abdomen barked in pain. My nose whistled when I inhaled. The air smelled of shit yet I breathed deeply as if I stood at the beach with Rhysand at my side. _Soon_ , I assured myself. I flexed my hands in their manacles. My left arm wept fresh rivulets of blood to join the coagulated pool on the wooden floor. I began to rise, each vertebrae aligning one on top of the other, pulling myself slowly from the floor. I hissed from my wounds but persisted until my posture was perfect, shoulders pulled back. Half naked from the waist down, I felt covered by a layer of my own blood and that was  _ just fine  _ with me. 

“Nesta,” I whispered beneath my breath. Saying her name choked my throat with emotion, betraying all my previous efforts at fortifying my mind. “Nesta,” I called again. The Cauldron, obviously, didn't answer. I took a lot on faith to think my sister could hear me now but I believed she was in Velaris now, listening and understanding. “I hope you can hear me,” I loosed a shuddered breath. I shook my head against the feelings threatening to overwhelm me. I didn’t want to cry, it defeated the purpose but the thought that Nesta would undoubtedly see me brought so low hurt me more than any beating I’d receive. I tightened all my muscles as if in direct protest to that thought. She would see my pain but she would feel my strength. I repeated those words until I could believe them myself. Sometimes, that's all courage was: a series of lies we tell ourselves until we can face what terrorizes us. “I need you to do something for me.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jurian came for me sometime later. Something had soured his mood so he kept quiet as he cleaned a few of the more ugly cuts on my body. His eyes were emotionless, a set look on his face while he quietly completed his task. I didn’t try to hide my nakedness or bend my spine in front of him. I wouldn’t be ashamed where they could see. Jurian didn’t bother cleaning all the blood off my skin but he made sure the wounds I had wouldn’t fester while my fae body attempted to heal itself, made difficult by the faebane. He was sent to heal me so I would be ready to  _ play  _ at a later time. It was still a small relief that I wouldn’t die of something as ridiculous as fever from infection. 

He unchained me from the floor and walked me down the hall, letting me hobble next to him instead of dragging me. I counted that as another small blessing that Jurian wasn’t without some empathy. 

Tamlin looked worse than I’d last seen him but then again, so did I. His fully rounded eyes told me I was winning the competition for ugliest wounds. I glared openly at Tamlin while Jurian rechained me to my wooden post. Unfortunately, Jurian didn’t stay long. But before he went, he made us both ingest a small drink of water laced with faebane. Apparently, we weren’t to regain our magic until we reached Hybern’s island. At the mention of us both reaching the island, Tamlin sighed out a little. Once there, they could ward us to their heart’s content. The King of Hybern would be able to let my Daemati abilities rise and feel safe knowing I was still his little prisoner. Tamlin would remain drugged with faebane until Hybern could see a use for Tamlin’s special type of magic. 

Already, a plan was forming in my mind. The door closed behind Jurian and Tamlin was already wetting his lips to speak. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. 

I sighed. My skin was covered in gooseflesh, a phantom breeze chilling my wet skin. At some point, they’d have to give me a shirt. 

“Feyre,” he begged. He had this annoying habit that he needed to address the issue immediately. His conscience wouldn’t let him rest until he did. I once thought it meant he had a good heart but now I could see it just allowed him to continue to fuck up. In his mind, everything he did was forgivable as long as he said he was sorry at the end. It was time that the High Lord knew his actions had lasting consequences. “Feyre I thought I could bring you back. I thought Rhysand had taken you. Whatever you think of me, I did this for you. I never intended on joining with Hybern; just using him to get you  _ back _ ,” he explained. 

I clucked my tongue. Tamlin recoiled. The gesture was distinctly  _ Rhysand  _ and I hoped it would drive home the point. “I hope you get a mate Tamlin,” I announced loudly, uncaring if anyone heard. His lips pursed with confusion. His greasy, blood soaked locks swayed when he cocked his head. 

The first time I had seen Tamlin, he was fully transformed into his true form with all the makings of a beast. He broke into my home and wrenched me from my family to aid his cause, uncaring how he had changed the trajectory of my life forever. Fate had picked him to perform the cruelest of tasks: to rip me out of my life to suffer for his cause. I wouldn’t change my past if I had the chance. I wouldn’t blame him for how he interrupted the life I had known. Instead, I used that memory to see that he had been showing me his true self. He tried to make himself out to be noble and just but that was the real facade. He was a selfish creature that would, without hesitation, destroy me to save himself. 

“I really do,” I nodded, watching the pain encroach on his features. He swallowed. “And I hope this world takes them from you while you’re forced to watch.” 

My heart beated to a steady rhythm while he straightened, lips tightening into a grimace. I wore no armor, was more vulnerable than I had been in a while but my resolve gave me strength. His eyes were full of calm understanding while he regarded me in the new darkness I would now wear. He was an anchor that would drown me if I let him. I already had quite the task set ahead of me; I didn’t need any more stones in my pockets to weigh me down. 

** I settled against the wooden pole behind me. My head ached. My body as well. The dull throb echoing inside me gave my thoughts clarity. This pain was temporary. I flexed my hands with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be chained forever.  _ I am the High Lady of the Night Court and I will not be defeated.  _ **


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets gets into our feels. 
> 
> Chapter 6 Summary:   
> -Feyre's ears are now round and she's got a few scars on her bargaining tattoo  
> -She spoke to Nesta through the Cauldron, hoping that Nesta was listening or could hear  
> -Feyre realizes she's gotta be strong to survive and that she will survive  
> -Feyre tells Tamlin that she hopes he has a mate only to watch them get taken from him   
> -The chapter ends with Feyre telling herself that "I am the High Lady of the Night Court and I will not be defeated"

**Cassian:**

I didn’t spend a single moment waiting around for Nesta to become responsive. I could hardly think let alone be  _ patient _ . I scooped her into my arms, launching into the night with one powerful sweep of my wings. Branches snapped on my wings and shoulders as I flew past and I was forced to huddle over Nesta so they didn’t hit her too. One particularly nasty branch scrapped the sensitive membrane of my left wing. My back arched at the contact, lower muscles seizing at the abruptness. In my haste, I’d forgotten where we were and flown us straight into the canopy of branches without a second thought. 

Though painful, I wasn’t slowed by the minor obstacle. I’d cleared the treeline with two more strokes and then we were free and clear into the dark night. It was a cloudless night so my vision was unobstructed. Blood rushed in my ears as I sped towards the townhouse. 

Nesta’s face was still, emotionless besides for the slight tightness in her jaw and neck. Her eyes were unseeing; they maybe were a little wider than normal but other than that, she looked relatively calm. I didn’t know how Lucien survived Elain’s visions. I kept calling Nesta’s name like that would bring her back. My heartbeat was thudding harder with every passing moment that she didn’t respond. At this rate, I’d die young and of a heart attack. “Nesta, now is not the time to ignore me,” I hissed, praying to the Cauldron that it release her back. 

_ Was this the day her mind would finally slip?  _

It was always present, that worry. Amren had explained why Nesta needed her training; her magic was unhealthy to contain for so long. Sooner or later, Nesta would likely feel the effects. The fact Nesta had gone on so long without a single drawback was a testament to how well she fit the role of the Cauldron’s keeper. Now, a million worries were crossing my mind that maybe it finally had become too much. She was still so young. 

I didn’t know what help I could expect to get at the townhouse but I had to trust Amren would know  _ something _ . 

I didn’t aim for the front door. I hurtled myself at the back porch again; faster than freefalling, I launched myself at the back of the townhouse. My feet hit the wooden deck so hard, my left foot broke through the floor. A  _ zing  _ went up my leg from the impact. My whole body jerked back from my ankle getting caught. My wings reflexively swept around to keep me balanced but one of them slammed too hard into the back door, shattering the glass. 

I heard curses and shouts, mostly Mor, before the entire house was upon me. Azriel was already through the broken door, batting away at my wing until I drew back on it to fold against my spine. “What?” he demanded, eyes frantically inspecting me and then Nesta in my arms. Normally, Azriel kept his shadows close at bay. It was very invasive to inspect us so blatantly so he kept them close. Now, having startled him and likely everyone else, he did away with manners and I felt the cool wave of his shadows stretch over my skin. They blended into the night. Only where the candlelight and moonlight greeted me could I see where they roamed. When they swept over Nesta’s skin, it was my turn to bat them away. 

“Nesta...she just...stopped responding,” I huffed, trying to catch my breath. I shouldn’t have been winded but my panic kept me from drawing full gulps of air. Instead, my lungs spasmed inside me and I was reduced to panting. 

The tension in Az’s shoulders stayed but his head fell to the side, a confused look crossing his face as he squinted at Nesta. “Is it...the Cauldron?” he asked. 

“I think…” I struggled to recall every detail. My mind stopped working the moment I sensed a problem. Nesta’s gasp was all I could clearly recall before the rest got blurry. There was only one time when I had heard her gasp like that, filled with shock and terror. It was right before the Attor had dragged it’s fucking claws across her spine before kidnapping her. 

Even though Velaris was secure, I had still inspected the woods for the creature when she gasped. I shook my head, trying to recollect my scrambled brain. “I don’t know. One minute we were sleeping and the next, she’s unresponsive,” I tried to explain. “Where is Amren-” 

“Rhysand must’ve winnowed to get her-” Azriel was cut off when both Rhysand and Amren stepped through the unbroken glass door to the porch. Amren wordlessly came to inspect Nesta in my arms. Rhysand looked more sick than I was, practically green as he looked on. I almost warned Az that our High Lord was about to faint but Rhysand swallowed and righted himself immediately. Elain, Lucien and Mor poked their heads from behind Az. 

Amren cocked an eyebrow, looking unsurprised. I wish that spelt relief for me but if anything, it made me worry more. If this was expected than Amren would either know exactly what to do or know the situation was futile. We all waited in silence while the small female magically prodded Nesta. My hands neared trembling when Nesta didn’t even respond to Amren’s jab. 

Amren drew back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Her magic isn’t...swarming,” she sounded like she was guessing or still drawing her conclusion. 

“What,” I bit out, leaning down to Amren’s face, “What does that mean?” 

Amren narrowed her eyes at me. The silver smoke inside turned into storm clouds. Her features relaxed and a pleased smile grew over her darkly painted lips. “It means, you Illyrian pup, that you have raised every alarm for nothing. You’ve interrupted my night, broken the porch and backdoor for a small nonissue.” 

Collective sighs of relief went around the room but I had yet to join them. “Explain,” I ground out, fully annoyed now at the knowing grin she proudly displayed. She was close to showing teeth at the tension still evident in my muscles. 

She shrugged, waiving us in from the porch. We all collected in the living room again where Mor must have been from the collection of wine sitting out. I could have downed the entire wine cellar just to forget the last few moments of sheer panic. How my teeth had been set on edge and heart rate beyond my control. I had been a trained warrior for centuries now and few times before had my calm logic completely escaped me. I hadn’t even been aware of my panic until I first landed at the townhouse, my foot going through the floorboards acting as the first hint. All I could think of was Nesta and what I would do next if Amren didn’t have the answers I expected her to have. In my mad scramble, I’d completely forgotten that Amren had likely retreated back to her apartment and headed towards the townhouse like a fool. If this had been a dire situation, my idiocy could have hurt Nesta. 

I was exhausted by the time I slumped against the settee. My muscles entered a rigor mortis of their own making, freezing Nesta in my arms and pressed firmly against my chest. Her eyes were still far away, almost like she was in a slightly unpleasant daydream. I bit my tongue to keep from calling out in vain again.  _ I had to give Lucien more credit someday.  _

Amren stood in front of the fire, watching me with interest. The rest followed and took up positions dispersed around the room. Elain crawled onto the seat next to me, kneeling by her sister with a frown. Mor just took a full wine glass, drank it down before pouring another full glass and handing it to me. I knocked it back without a moment’s consideration. 

“If her magic  _ had _ overwhelmed her, I doubt you could be able to touch her. It would burn you,” Amren shrugged. 

“Then what the fuck is going on?” my patience had ended the moment Nesta didn’t respond to me. I didn’t have to know much to suspect the Cauldron had done something but I wanted to know  _ what  _ and how soon I could shatter that ridiculous creation. 

Amren rolled her eyes. “She’s likely visiting with the Cauldron.” 

Rhys breathed in deeply, catching his face in his palms. With each passing moment that Feyre wasn’t back, Rhys looked more dejected. “She is going to come back, right Amren?” his voice was muffled by his hands. I understood then. If Rhys couldn’t ensure Feyre was safe, then he was going to put all his effort into protecting her sisters in her absence. Having that task should have added purpose to his movements but he still looked lost and more stressed than ever. Humans could get sick randomly and I believed I was about to see the same phenomena happen with the half-fae, half-Illyrian.

“Assuming nothing else changes, she should. I’ll stay until she does,” Amren replied seriously. 

“Thank you Amren,” Rhys nodded. Everyone else chose to stay as well which I wasn’t surprised at. Az left briefly to collect his letters but everyone took up their vigil with me in the sitting area, sitting before the fireplace and feeling none of it’s warmth. 

**Morrigan:**

I thought my headache would lessen when Nesta came back from her visit with the Cauldron but it actually worsened. She had woken up and in less than an hour had managed to piss off every individual in the room. Only the serious and quite displeased expression she wore reminded me that she was just as angry as we were. 

“She’s telling us not to sacrifice ourselves,” Cassian began, hands splayed on the dining room table. “Pot. Kettle. Black,” he groaned, shaking his head. 

Lucien huffed, tilting his head back. “I’m going to say it…” he squeezed his eyes shut while simultaneously drawing all sets of eyes in the dining room. His arms were wrapped around Elain, standing quietly in his arms. Az informed me of her involvement in the situation and I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Elain had entered my worst nightmare: making the wrong choice and causing my family to suffer because of my actions. It was a fate worse than death to hurt your loved ones. She’d done it all with the best of intentions which made it that much worse. She kept so silent now, practically afraid to speak. Whether Lucien recognized it or not, Elain needed to go to the Day Court. She needed Helion’s guidance now even though he also had a role in Feyre’s abduction as well. “Ignore what Feyre wants. We should go after her anyway.” 

“She asked us to trust her,” Nesta replied bitterly like she didn’t know what  _ trust  _ was but she rather chop off her own head then partake in it. A rueful smile crossed my lips. Rhysand kept quiet at the table, eyes studying the wooden grain before him. I kept glancing at him but he stayed annoyingly still, choosing to listen to our opinions before having his say. Which would be the final say. Not only as our High Lord but as Feyre’s mate, he had the final say. 

Nesta and Elain could debate him but as Elain was refusing to speak, the responsibility of choosing to heed Feyre’s words was hoisted on Nesta’s shoulders. At the moment, I was frankly surprised Nesta hadn’t already marched off to go pry Feyre from Hybern’s hands herself. Thankfully, she was more rational than doing something as reckless as that. 

Apparently, Lucien was not. He had been a major proponent of going after Feyre. 

“Whether official or not, she’s our High Lady. That title exists for a reason, Nesta. She has the same power as Rhysand; let’s not forget that,” Amren said, not unkindly. She could almost pass for sympathetic to Nesta’s doubt and fear. 

“She’s not even twenty two yet,” Nesta snapped back, slapping her hand on the table. “A month ago you told me I was like a baby with the power to end worlds. How am I any different from Feyre?”

“Feyre has trained and we didn’t just put her on the battlefield because it was a nice use for her time,” Cassian sighed, slumping into his chair. The poor male had been at his wits end when Nesta was unresponsive. Now, he was caught between the relief at having her back and the horror of what her mind had just come from. “But she’s still so young…” he shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

A million questions we could never ask.  _ What have you seen?  _ We would likely never know as Nesta was tight-lipped about it but that had been an answer in and of itself. Feyre was being tortured and our imaginations could do the rest. I glanced again at Rhys. 

“She has a point,” Az said. “If we go after her and fail, we could be delivering ourselves to Hybern.” 

“Then teach me to winnow. I’ll find the Cauldron and get her myself,” Nesta bit back, glaring at Azriel like he’d be deciding where and when she trained. Cassian choked back what might have been vomit. 

I leaned forward, ready to save Cassian from entertaining any thoughts of Nesta rushing off to join the fray. “If all it took was winnowing to the Cauldron, this would have been over before it began. Hybern can ward against tracking much like Velaris is warded from being discovered. Even if you could find the Cauldron, you’d have to break the wards-” 

Nesta cut my explanation off with a glare. “If my magic can create and destroy regular matter then it can break a few wards.” That was the first admission of just what Nesta could do and I found myself swallowing. She really had become the Cauldron, maker and breaker of worlds. 

“That doesn’t change the fact we do not know where the Cauldron is,” Amren replied, glaring at Nesta.  _ Or _ , I thought bitterly,  _ where Feyre was.  _ She said she was on a ship and heading to Hybern. Like she knew that was enough to send us all after her, her next request was the impossible: wait. 

Feyre, with possibly the one chance she had at communicating with us, asked us all to sit on our hands and let her escape when the time was right. Her logic? If Hybern got ahold of anyone more of us, we would only be that much weaker. I thought she really meant Nesta at that moment. Any of us and Hybern would have weakened us that much more; if Hybern had Nesta though, the war was as good as lost. 

Feyre said he was going to attack us now and we needed to be ready for that. She wanted us to trust her to survive and return to us when she could. I chanced another glance at Rhys. He was looking back at me this time and he offered a faint smile. He looked more mentally present now than he’d been since when I’d first seen him. Sitting back in his chair, he drew all eyes in the room. “We will give Feyre the trust she asks us for,” Cassian opened his mouth but Rhys stopped him with a glance. “Nesta will continue to update us on any changes. As we do not know any more, we are forced into heeding her request this time. Unless we really do want to march into a fight completely blind and lose this war,” every word came out tight. He looked ready to spring into action. 

“And when we do know more?” Az asked, voice quiet and hard as death. “The faebane will wear out someday and you’ll be able to reach her then.” 

Rhys’s eyes gleamed. “Then  _ I  _ will go for Feyre and no one else,” four mouths opened, once again ready to argue but Rhys kept silencing us with that brightness in his violet eyes. The cunning eyes that spoke of a plan already in the makes. “We will not give ourselves to Hybern. So until we know more, we need to keep focused on the coming battles.” 

“Is that even what you want?” Lucien cried out. His hands pulled at the roots of his hair. 

** “What  _ I  _ want does not matter,” Rhys barked back. “What  _ I  _ want is irrelevant right now. When you are High Lord of the Day Court, I really do fucking hope you never know what this feels like but you  _ will  _ understand that sacrifice is apart of the position,” Rhys rose from his chair, leaning on the table while his eyes trained on Lucien. We all listened in silence, swallowing down the ugliest truth that sometimes duty came before love. It made me a little more fonder of Lucien that he still believed it was so easy to do otherwise.“So do not ask me to take the outcome of this war, all of our lives and our peoples and weigh them against Feyre’s…” Rhys bowed his head, staring hard at his hands splayed on the table. His shoulders were far too low for me to recognize the cousin I knew. He laughed without humor. The sound echoed in the silent room, sounding hollow and lifeless. “If I had it my way, that decision would be easy and I really hate myself but that’s the truth. But Feyre, even facing death, knows what her duty is and I won’t spit in her face just to be selfish. So don’t ask me to be because...Cauldron knows I might just listen.” **


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will come a chapter when the fluff happens. But first we gotta close these wounds. I promise, there be a light at the end of the tunnel.

**Elain:**

There hadn’t been a night since Feyre was gone where I felt like I could breathe right. I was tense at all times, muscles going taut when anyone came near except Nesta or Lucien. Even then, sometimes they snuck up and I felt as if they purposefully jumped out to scare me. At least my nerves felt that way. It was exhausting to me to feel this way. 

When Cassian had appeared at the patio with Nesta, panicked and out of breath, everyone had rushed to meet him. I wanted to as well but I felt frozen to my seat. I didn’t want to know what new tragedy had cropped up. I didn’t want to confirm if I had seen it in a vision and could have stopped it from occurring. So even when Azriel rushed the door and Rhysand winnowed for Amren, I was slow to rise. Anchors had tied themselves to my feet as I walked to the door, mentally preparing myself for whatever Cassian had. It had to be Nesta but if it was Nesta, I thought I’d go to the Sidra and drown myself. I could not exist in this world knowing I hadn’t protected Feyre and Nesta. 

When Amren had explained what she could, it was popular belief that Nesta was not in the clear until her mind returned. Cassian still looked worried. Everyone else did as well. I was possibly the only one in the room to feel a tidal wave of sheer relief. I was used to the sensation of my mind leaving my body and I alone knew what Nesta faced. I had every faith that if I could find a way from my visions, then Nesta would find her way back to us as well. 

When she did wake and immediately began spouting directives, my happiness was infinite. Only when I caught what she was saying did I realize the horrific implications. Nesta had seen Feyre and her introduction to her new treatment under captivity. I thought I’d be the only one to know what Feyre would face. I couldn’t tell if that was a relief or a new painful twist of the knife worming its way between my ribs. Nesta would understand my burden but she would also have to carry it with me. She had it worse though. She was not a Seer. Whatever she saw could be relayed and I dreaded the day I’d have to speak the atrocities aloud. 

Nesta completely sidestepped those questions by staying silent on everything that had happened before and after Feyre spoke. I agreed with her decision. Hybern was trying to humiliate our sister and I wouldn’t compound it by making her torment known. There was no good that could come of informing our family that while we sipped wine, Hybern had stripped and beaten our sister. Rhysand would surely have abandoned all good intentions of keeping focused on the war. I don’t believe a single person in the room would have dared stop him. I would have taken up a knife myself and followed. 

Every passing second made me want to learn more about what Lucien did on the battlefield. I wanted a knife, a sword or weapon of my own. If only so I could drive it through Hybern myself. 

I never believed I could think such vicious thoughts but they nearly sustained me now. It was the guarantee that not only I would see Feyre returned to us but that Hybern would face worse. That every strike against my sister would be returned to him in excess. I mourned the woman who never knew this violence, who could never have conceived that this violence existed. 

But then I thought of that sickly creature slicing off my sister’s ear and my hands formed fists. 

Lucien noticed the change in me as well. He felt all my emotions after all. Not only the anxiety that practically shook my frame but the darker emotions stirring too. The rage. It was safe to say that he was concerned. Without a moment to question me on them, my mate had taken to staying at my side. I didn’t know if that was because he wanted to support me or maybe stop me if I snapped. A different Elain would have been offended maybe that he felt the need to watch over me like I was a danger to my family. The Elain I was now felt reassured, like I was a rose and Lucien was pruning away my thorns. 

After Rhysand’s outburst, Morrigan clarified some of the vague details. Like how long we would wait for Feyre to try escaping before we went for her. Rhysand groaned. A week isn’t long at all to give Feyre time to escape but everyday she would face a new horror. At what point were we only hurting her? Rhysand said two weeks if we heard nothing from Nesta. I think we all concluded the conversation hoping Nesta had news from Feyre sooner than that. 

Lucien pulled me away to our rooms soon after. I felt his impatience to speak privately with me building. Anytime we spoke of Feyre, he responded reflexively by pulling me closer. Drawing me near him, holding my hand or reaching to me through the bond. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere without him. When he left the room, I choked on each breath. My body was not my own. I was so in tune to him that all actions were foreign without him. When he left for battle, I still looked for him before I decided on tasks. It made me wince when I looked at Rhysand without Feyre by his side. 

Lucien led me to the washroom, sitting me on a bathing stool beside the porcelain tub. I’d yet to step into one without Lucien. Even now, eyeing the murky depths of the water caused my skin to crawl. My magic stirred inside me like it knew where my thoughts had gone. Lucien brushed his hand over the surface and the water began to steam. His magic bursted out at me from across the bond in a fresh wave of heat. My nerves eased with the heady mixture of steam and my mate’s magic filling the air. 

I hadn’t washed since Feyre was taken. The peppery scent of my stale fear mixed with my sweat must not have been pleasant. As I tugged on my sleeves, I eyed the crusted stains at my wrists where I had dried my tears and running nose. I would have cringed had anyone else in the house taken better care of themselves. But even Morrigan, who I recalled being very diligent in cleaning herself rigorously, smelled like a wheat field freshly paved with manure. It hardly mattered that we all had left ourselves to decay. Our thoughts were elsewhere. 

Now, in front of my mate, I still didn’t have the impulse to wash myself. But, looking at the dirt flecking Lucien’s neck that smelled of ash and sand, my fingers twitched with the urge to brush it away. He still wore his armor from N’simura. The leather only absorbed new scents like rot and now it stank of iron and smoke. Lucien knelt in front of me, helping to untangle my hair before it got wet and became a hopeless cause. His face was a mixture between pensive and distracted. While he did so, I took to undoing the small braids at his temple. 

The laces of his armor were harder to undo but I wormed my fingernails between the knots and tugged until they gave. Lucien had a considerably easier time with the small bindings of my dress, lining my spine. He guided my dress up and over my head careful, minding my hair and arms. I was about to reach for the ties of his boots but he made a  _ chht  _ sound. 

I smiled up at him at the call. Instead of a  _ tsk  _ or cluck of his tongue, he made a  _ chht  _ sort of noise that one night of questioning led me to discovering it’s origins. It was how he guided his horses and I hadn’t been too pleased to discover that sometimes, forgetting himself, he made the noise reflexively when he wanted my attention. It quickly became an inside joke and a fond way we called one another. 

I took my fingers from his boots and he kicked them off instead, shirking off his tunic and pants soon after. I peeled off my long socks and undergarments, waiting on my mate to help unravel the breast bindings I’d discovered. No more human modesty shrouded me. Lucien stepped and settled into the bathwater which was routine before I’d even consider stepping in. Once my hands clasped his proffered one, he drew my back against his chest. The bathwater scalded my skin till it was pink. 

He set about lathering me with unscented soap. “I suppose you would like to know where my mind has been,” I mumbled, taking the bar of soap from him to do the same for him. 

“When you’re ready,” he nodded, chin bumping into my shoulder. 

“I haven’t been keeping it a secret from you purposefully,” I replied defensively. I worried my lower lip with my teeth. I hadn’t approached him yet, hadn’t had the time. 

“I didn’t think you were,” he hummed. “I’d expect if you wanted to keep your feelings hidden you would have closed me off from our bond.” 

“That hadn’t crossed my mind,” I raised my brows. He hummed his contentment at that fact. He nuzzled the skin at my shoulder. Placing an encouraging kiss at my neck, I began to speak. “I have these visions and yet I cannot do anything about them,” I sighed. “I tried and I know that I am not entirely responsible for Feyre’s kidnapping but I had the ability to change it and I  _ failed _ ,” my voice gradually grew heavier, more choked with emotion. Hot tears splashed into the water. “Now with all my visions I doubt that I was ever meant to change any of it.”

Lucien waited until he was sure I finished speaking to pull me flush against him. My sobs bent my back and he straightened me out, arms wrapping around my torso like a protective casing. His cheek rested against mine. “I doubt you are meant to change all your visions, love,” he whispered when my tears slowed. 

“I had the chance to stop it, Lucien,” I said back quickly, furiously wiping at my tears. I craned my neck to look up at him. “I knew what would happen. I saw this all coming to pass and I did nothing to stop it. Feyre is gone. I have changed nothing.” 

His golden eyes took me in, sweeping over the furrow of my brows and thinness to my lips as I pressed them together. He sighed, shaking his head, “You tried to change it and you failed.” I swallowed through the fresh wave of sorrow, tears burning my cheeks again. My legs twitched. My fingers fidgeted with the water. The bath was constraining me. I needed to run, to flee. “Elain,” he urged my focus to return to him. 

“I failed my sister,” I rushed out, begging him to understand. I wetted my lips in anticipation of responding to whatever he said next. I knew all his arguments.  _ I’m but one person. Fate will run its course, regardless of my involvement. I cannot protect everyone I love.  _ I agreed with all of them but they didn’t matter. They didn’t change the fact Feyre was gone. I had the chance and I failed when she needed me. Everything else was details. __

I didn’t blame the rest for holding it against me. They didn’t make excuses for themselves and I didn’t want them made for me. 

“Yes, love,” Lucien nodded, jaw straining. His eye lids were lowered, sorrow welling in them. That set new tears streaming from me and my mate helped to brush them away, holding me close while I trembled. Our bathing was long forgotten. The hot water only washed away the superficial of my irreversibly marred soul. I’d be no cleaner when I did emerge from the bath. 

I sobbed out all my grief like I’d just recently learned of Feyre’s kidnapping. Lucien held me through it. 

When my tears did ebb, he spoke low and into my ear where he placed his lips. “But that doesn’t mean you stop trying now. Trying and failing is what you have ahead of you. I know you will never do nothing-” 

“But what if I make it worse?” I choked out. 

“Fate will have its way and we will fight it as best we can; there are no  _ what ifs _ . We do what we can.” 

“And if I keep failing?” Feyre might be able to find herself out of this situation, become her own hero but the next might not be as lucky. It could be any of our family who met ugly ends. Death was final. There could be no trying again afterwards. 

Lucien nodded. “We have but one choice, love. You won’t let Hybern survive so that means we have to keep going. Sometimes we can’t protect the people we love but I know you won’t protect anyone by doing nothing,” his words sounded no different from the ones he said before but they still soaked into my pruning skin. They laid over my fresh wounds like a balm. I fell back against him. 

“What do we do?” I asked, laying my hand over his on my abdomen. His fingers lightly stroked the soft flesh he found there. 

“We have to find a better way for you to communicate your visions...and I think that means returning to the Day Court.”

The tightness in his voice told me all I needed to know about Lucien’s opinion of his suggestion. I knew Helion had been present, along with Tarquin. That they hadn’t looked for Feyre and Tamlin sooner pained me but I couldn’t fault them. We make choices with what we have and they made the wrong one. So had I. “If you do not fault me then you cannot fault Helion,” I intoned, brushing my lips against his jaw. 

Lucien’s lips quirked, obviously finding no fault in my logic and no argument to be had. He looked down at me, smiling unabashedly. “The double standard will continue until I see him grovel.” 

“We’ll be waiting a longtime.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Cassian:**

It took Mor and Amren both to convince Rhys he wasn’t ready to return to the war front. The fact that Azriel and I were both leaving to address concerns was just salt to the wound. He knew better than to attempt to muscle past Amren. When it looked like he might try it, I wanted to turn to Lucien and tell him to lay on the same ward I’d been given. The one Feyre had dealt me when I wanted to leave my own sickbed.  _ If Feyre were here, she wouldn’t have hesitated to ward him _ , I thought,  _ but if Feyre were here...she wouldn’t have needed to. _

From how calm Lucien seemed, sipping his tea with Elain tucked into his side, I wouldn’t have been surprised to know he’d already warded Rhysand. When he caught my gaze, he winked. I bit down my smile because it would be like oil to this steadily burning fire that was my best friend. 

Rhys made all the right arguments, showed all the right signs that he was healed and yet none of us believed it. Two nights since Feyre being kidnapped was too soon and we all knew it, even Rhys. 

It did put us at a considerable disadvantage. One leader, kidnapped. The other? A slew of things.  _ Unreliable? Distant? Motives unknown?  _ I knew all of Az’s suspicions without him having to say so. Every of Rhys’s actions was under intense scrutiny by Amren, Mor and Az. They all wanted to know if Rhys was going to throw the war to get Feyre back. He’d made a good show insisting he wouldn’t but he recognized before us all that he was very tempted to. 

I wanted to tell them all to save their breath. 

Rhys was smarter than just blindly charging off to battle. They were confusing Rhys and I. If it had been Nesta, I would not be found standing around a table making plans. I’d never have returned to the Night Court where my family could keep me hostage with the best of intentions. I’d be out, fighting—  _ Cauldron _ , I hissed when I realized my heart had started thumping. Az raised a curious brow at me, sensing the shift. Even the thought had prompted my body to prepare for a fight, to begin tensing and relaxing different muscles and expanding all my senses. I shook my head and the tightness away. 

Rhys was smarter. He wouldn’t just blindly charge. No, I knew Rhys and he didn’t win our spars by the brute force I could wield. He waited for the opportunity and then struck. This was no different. The moment he formulated a plan we would be damned to stop him. Which was why I wanted to tell Amren and Mor to save their breath. If Rhys had a mind to run off, only Amren could stop him single-handedly and she’d have to catch him first. 

It would be easier on us if Rhys could handle the meetings but he was under house-arrest until future notice. Azriel would continue to hear more from his spies today, Nuala and Cerridwen having left to gather what they could. Many shadow wraiths in the Night Court but none so reliable as the twins. I knew when Azriel was pushing his networks to the limits when they were sent out. When Azriel himself went, it was personal. In the past two days, both the twins and Azriel had been off collecting intel. 

I prayed they would return with something more. If only so Nesta didn’t have to wait for her sister to be tortured to find out anything. 

Mor and I were flanking Amren today. It would be an entertaining High Lords meeting today. Amren was the most powerful under Rhysand’s command. Yet her abilities came with a torrent of conditions she and Rhys had agreed upon when he asked her to become his Second. None of that mattered to him because it boiled down to two very important agreements. The first was that if Rhys died in wartime, Amren would bind herself to Velaris and remain it’s permanent guardian. The second was Amren could not be forced to leave the tethers of her fae body which guaranteed her to never return to the Prison. As Rhys didn’t possess nor know how to do such a thing, the condition seemed excessive but Amren insisted on it. 

But after all her stipulations and terms, Amren was possibly the worst Second-in-Command in Night Court history. She didn’t play well with the High Lords. She’d told Tarquin’s predecessor she’d  _ eat his eyes straight from his skull if he leered at her once more _ . Her relations with the Summer Court following the incident were understandably tense. She rarely left Velaris, which was fine with Rhys as we all knew her dedication to the city’s protection. When shit hit the wall, she was undeniably helpful as she had subdued countless riots when Illyrian camps had started their own civil wars. But after that, she was a deadweight. Preferring solace and books, she kept to herself. 

It seemed today was the day of many changes. None of us wanted to step into Rhys’s shoes at the High Lord’s table but on an odd show of enthusiasm, Amren declared she would. Mor hadn’t bothered hiding her relief that she wouldn’t be needed at the table, only to stand behind Amren and ensure none of the High Lord’s lost their favorite treasures. Or eyes. 

Nesta arced an eyebrow. “Oh really?” she asked, taking a small bite of toast. I made a mental note to watch her eat. I didn’t know what a normal portion of food was as I never ceased being hungry but watching Nesta eat made me think she didn’t either. 

Amren’s lips twitched. I think she painted them blood red today on purpose. She was like a Cythia snake. Brightly colored to ward away danger. She drew back her shoulders like that did anything to improve upon her height. “They will think we are weaker now that Feyre was taken from our rankings. I want to see personally that they have no such delusions,” she said stiffly to the room before turning back to Nesta, “Nesta, I still expect you to return to my apartment for training. Alis and Bron will see you in so don’t bother claiming the  _ door was locked _ . I’ll see your progress this afternoon.”

Nesta glared. “They pry too often.”

“Because I told them to. Figure out a way of stopping them and we can talk about your suggestions,” Amren replied in an airy manner, flourishing her hands about her.  _ Their business is private _ , I internally chided.

Even then...I couldn’t help the glance at Az I sent. I’d have to find out what he knew. Not many secrets existed he wasn’t privy to. I so direly wanted to know what occupied the majority of Nesta’s time. All her books were on legends and myths that I’d been told as a pup. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was writing a children’s book. A particularly gruesome and violent children’s book.  _ If it’s bloody then maybe an Illyrian pup’s book _ , my brain unhelpfully provided. 

This time, I had fair warning to stop my heart from lurching but I only succeeded in not dragging Nesta from her chair by straining every muscle into perfect stillness. It was a ridiculous fantasy my mind had made up that now my entire being was chomping at the bit to confirm. When my instincts were firmly subdued into a chokehold, I dared at glance at Nesta. Her face told me I utterly failed at reining in my emotions. Her eyes said  _ later _ . 

When Rhys stopped arguing with Mor, we were finally able to leave. Lucien had his work cut out for him in agreeing to watch Rhys. Amren led the way while Mor, Az and I followed behind. Before we winnowed from the city, Az looked to me with raised brows. 

“What?” 

“Can you stop being such a spaz?” he asked. His eyes were alight with barely concealed mirth. “It isn’t enough that we have to leave both Rhys and Lucien behind but you now decided to lose all semblance of control?” He inspected my appearance a little more closely. 

“So it’s  _ Lucien  _ now? Not  _ fox _ ?” I taunted instead. Az would have to peel my skin away if he wanted to know why I had slipped up today.

He bristled, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s still a child. I guess I can forgive it as a child’s lapse in judgement.” There was no bite to his words. Az had taken his time in coming around to Lucien after the little fox left Velaris but he finally did come around. 

**Mor:**

“Combining forces was a severe lapse in judgement,” Beron declared haughtily. 

“It got us the Book which I dare say is more than what you’ve accomplished through this war,” Kallias leaned back in his chair. “We do have to speak on the Book’s keeping. We can’t afford to lose it now.” 

The Book had caused me enough anxiety to last a lifetime. Now that we had it, where it would go and who would keep it would haunt me until it was finally settled upon. Afterall, Nesta would need the Book when we went for the Cauldron and so whoever watched over it would become our unwitting ally. 

“I’m not convinced Hybern knew the Book was there, he has yet to show that he missed it,” Thesan shook his head. We’d been waiting on some news from spies in the Summer Court to relay if Hybern realized we’d taken the Book. Nothing yet. 

“Of course not, he has what he wanted all along. When Tamlin dies, the Spring Court will go with him and Hybern will have conquered a Court. With Rhysand’s mate, he might just get two.” Beron spat back. My hands tightened, readying for the insult. “All he needs now is to pick us off.”

“Do not fret, High Lord, we shall protect you,” Amren nodded lazily. 

He bellowed a laugh, patting the table and smiling wildly. No one shared his obvious enjoyment. “Worry for your own Court, creature,” he taunted, daring us to move with a sweep of his gaze. “If I needed protection, I would surely not ask you.” 

I’d had mixed feelings before but now I was glad Rhys wasn’t here. There would have been a bloodbath. As much as I wished Cassian had gone to train the legions as I asked, he stubbornly refused. He stayed with us for my benefit but that also meant a bloodbath wasn’t entirely off the table. 

Amren blinked slowly. As nonchalant as the remainder of the table remained, the interest was alive in their eyes. She looked over at High Lord Beron, sizing him up with a sweep of her alarming eyes. Beron wisely kept quiet, eyes burning. I thought Amren was about to speak but she changed her focus, looking to Tarquin. “And the Book?” The room breathed out.

I bit my cheek to keep from interjecting. Amren asked that Cassian and I remain behind her and quiet, a show of force. If she hadn’t warned me ahead of time then I would have been lunging at Beron already. I had to trust Amren had clear motives for asking us this; she was attending this meeting personally afterall. 

“Heavily guarded, Varian and Helion have worked to see it’s protection is complete,” Tarquin nodded quickly, eager to have Amren’s focus latch to someone else. His eyes avoided making contact with our end of the table. I didn’t think that was a coincidence. If Cresseida had shown her disappointment in her High Lord to me then Tarquin no doubt felt that same emotion in himself. 

“Not guarded enough,” Kallias frowned. “The Book shouldn’t be near the front. Or even the war camps. Hybern could ambush us here like he did the refugee camps.”

“Hybern had a spy then. The location of our camp is warded just like his,” Thesan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Though we should change locations, we’ve stayed here too long and risk discovery in more conventional ways.” 

“We’ve pushed them back into the Spring Court-” Beron was interrupted by Tarquin. 

“But half the Summer Court still remains under Hybern’s control,” Tarquin stated. Hybern had control long enough for Tarquin to adjust but the bitter notes of his voice remained. Even connected as High Lords were with the land they ruled, he had lost a throne and that was, symbolically speaking, unacceptable. 

“We are too close to our enemies with the Book in residence. It needs a safe location,” Kallias nodded. Silence followed. No one wanted to be the first to suggest their own Court but it was the obvious first choice for them. I resisted rolling my eyes. 

“And competent guards for it,” Beron highlighted, flicking his gaze around the table as if to check that we all received and understood the insult. Cassian shifted restlessly besides me. I wondered when Amren was going to bite off Beron’s head. Tarquin might have beaten her to it. I expected some type of reaction from Helion but he was calm and relaxed as a cat. His arms over the back of his chair, head tilted to the side and an engagingly bright smile aimed right back at Beron.

I imagined it destroyed Beron to know Helion had an affair with his Lady. A male as possessive as Beron wouldn’t tolerate in the slightest any slip of control. Upon returning to the war camp, I’d noticed the additional tents that had gone up. They stood out among the rest as they were taller and even their exterior was far more lush. The Autumn Court had finally seen fit to move the  _ fairer sex _ , then. Lady Juliette was in residence. I would have to find out why she came now of all times. 

“The only neutral territory then,” Amren stated. All eyes squinted at us. “Under the Mountain,” she nodded definitively. “The caves are still intact and quite maze-like. Warded inside, the Book would be virtually untouchable except by those that helped in placing it.”

I could see the gears churning in her head. A plan she’d concocted was in motion and we were all pawns at the moment. 

“And how will we select who guards it?” Thesan asked. He was always a very reserved High Lord yet it seemed carefully neutral now. Like he knew Amren was working an angle but instead of feeling threatened, he was encouraging her plot. I thought the two would be terrifying if they ever decided to be formal allies. Lucky for us, Amren had already chosen Velaris as her nesting spot. 

She smiled as if to accept Thesan’s encouragement but failed at appearing grateful. Her replying smile was much too proud and sinister. She was so pleased with herself she almost vibrated with contentment. “Leaving a person to guard it almost announces it’s location,” she nodded curtly. “Instead, we ward it and leave it alone until we move it next. Each time we chose a new location, a new fae from each Court will select that new location known only to that fae and Helion.” 

“And how will we ensure that?” Helion raised an amused eyebrow, playing along. I could tell though Amren had convinced most of the room. Even among High Lords centuries old, Amren was still the elder by far and thankfully, they largely treated her as such. Except Beron but he had no self-preservation skills. I wanted to sigh in relief that this meeting looked like it would end without a single drop of blood spilled. 

“Because we will ward the fae too,” she nodded, quite pleased indeed. 

Jaws dropped. “Warding a fae is entirely too dangerous,” Beron spluttered. 

“And,” Amren snapped, once again throwing the full weight of her predatory gaze on Beron, “That is  _ exactly _ how we will insure the fae isn’t some sniveling High Lord, intent on betraying us again,” Amren’s voice dripped venom. 

Beron’s voice flattened and he straightened in his seat. “Are you implying something, creature?”

“Yes,” she grinned murderously. 

Beron smiled back with matching malice, “ _ Tamlin  _ betrayed your Lady. He is the reason Hybern has a new toy,” 

“Yes that is the assumption,” she nodded, voice lofty. I wanted to slit his throat. Amren asked for our trust, our patience. He was  _ spitting  _ on us with impunity and Amren had yet to return to favor. “But you sit at this table quite pleased that Hybern has taken your  _ allies  _ captive.” 

“I have no fondness for either, I do admit,” he shrugged, leaning back into his seat. His sense of security, his untouchableness grated heavily on my nerves. He didn’t care that this was a devastating blow. It was not his family or people or wealth and therefore, below his concern. Beron, if anything, derived pleasure that it was Rhys's mate captured. 

“It would be quite convenient for you to have a neighboring territory destroyed,” Amren mused, causing Beron to stiffen. He squinted at Amren as if to see her better. Amren clucked her tongue, tapping her chin. Beron’s beady eyes followed the movement. “A coward like you would most definitely bargain for clemency in exchange for handing us over to Hybern,” I could see the shifting in seats around the table. If anyone was ready to sacrifice us to save their own hides, it was Beron. Though Amren knew that Beron could not be the spy so I wondered what motives she had for making it seem such. “We never did answer how Hybern was able to get to the refugee camps so quickly. He’d need full access to your lands,” she wondered. 

“Do you accuse me of being the spy?” he ground out, hands fisted on the table. The temperature in the room increased to the point of sweat dripping from my back. 

Amren raised her hand, silencing him. Her lips pulled back to reveal unerringly white teeth, sharp and deadly. Her voice was low, coming from a place of deep-seated hatred. “It is simple. You are either the spy or you are miserably incompetent,” she watched his lips tighten before shaking her head. “Either way, I do not trust you or any of your ilk to watch over the Book. Therefore, I move that while your Court is investigated, none of you are involved in the security of the Book.” 

_ And the plot is brought to light _ . I didn’t bother hiding my small, pleased smile. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Morrigan:**

After a day of stress, I thought we’d return for a quiet night in Velaris. See if Rhys had killed Lucien yet. I personally looked forward to heading to Rita’s for a drink followed by an extended bath. I would have died to have a backrub. 

Once Amren had effectively called into question Beron’s loyalty, it hadn’t taken long for the other High Lords to jump at the opportunity. Beron had no favor among them and he’d already had enough suspicion to cause reasonable doubt. Of course, we had our own motivations for wanting Beron as far from the Book as possible but I didn’t trust him anyway with the Book. Now, when it was time for Nesta to see the Book, we would have a choice of allies without the looming threat of working with the Autumn Court. 

I didn’t know how they would react to one like Nesta. Maybe like how they reacted to me when my power Awakened or maybe they’d recognize her for the threat that she was and seek to destroy her. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that the other Courts would welcome Nesta’s abilities but we had a better chance of making it work for the better. Unless we wanted to outright steal the Book, break any chance of alliances, and isolate us all from the war effort, we didn’t have the luxury of not allying with another Court. Sooner or later we were going to have to join forces. 

Beron had resisted, insulted and announced he’d pull his army but no one had budged. Especially not Helion. When the conversation had drifted to relocating our forces, Beron remained in his seat. His bluff had been called for what it was: a last-ditch attempt at forcing our hands.  _ And a pitiable one at that.  _

The rest of the meeting, besides for Beron’s grumbling, had gone productively. We agreed that we needed to relocate and to split our forces. Not only focusing our efforts on retaking the Spring Court but extending them back to the Summer Court. Now it was a matter of which Courts would go where. 

The last topic discussed was High Lord Tamlin. Without outside confirmation he was the spy, his allegiance was dubious at best. The final agreement was that if found, he should be taken by force if necessary but not killed. He’d receive the chance to defend himself in a trail where all High Lords would sit as judges. 

I tried not to think that far ahead. I much preferred to watch my feet make their next step rather than look a league down the road. 

So instead of my desired relaxation time, I was sitting at the dining room table while Nesta drafted her letter to the Human Queens. 

A formal acceptance to their invitation. Despite the rather simplicity of the message, Nesta’s quick temper flared as she crumpled the paper again. “This seems fruitless. You should tell me what to write and I will do my best to mimic my sister’s handwriting…” she frowned. She looked up at me, eyes catching me in the crossfire of her serious thoughts. “I do not even recall what her handwriting looks like.” She appeared severely disturbed by the thought. 

I closed my eyes at my thoughtlessness. “You wouldn’t have,” I breathed. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. Though her back straightened as she rose to her own defense, her voice remained quiet. Unsure. 

“Rhys taught Feyre to read and write a few months ago,” I sighed. 

Nesta’s brows drew together. “No that isn’t possible. We were all taught when we were young...Feyre was young when our mother died but she would have known-” 

I cut her off with a shake of my head. “She didn’t.”

Nesta’s jaw tightened. Her skin, normally pale like the moon, looked ashen. The shadows under her eyes were more severe like the downturn of her lips. “I didn’t...I never knew.” 

I swallowed. There were no words I could say to help her. Feyre must not have told her but as a sister, not knowing something so key, seemed almost unforgivable. I couldn’t change the past for her. I had no room for judgement of them. I took a deep breath and reached out, holding her shoulder. She didn’t flinch from the contact but her eyes followed me warily. “I do not think Feyre would change anything about her past if it meant changing her future,” it was the best I could offer. That maybe our past did not have to be all shiny and full of ease. 

Nesta nodded, swallowing and the emotion vanished once more from her face. “Then Rhysand should write the letter. He will know her handwriting the best.” 

I rose from the table, sweeping away the paper into my arms. “Right,” I left Nesta sitting alone. I wanted to stay and maybe hold her for a little while but she’d wrapped her arms around herself, shifting away from me. Later, she might welcome such contact but now her feelings were too raw. 

Though I had no influence on Nesta and Feyre’s past, I felt the wretch for revealing that truth. It was a small piece of their past that shed light on an uglier side. I had no right to be meddling and yet, it happened. 

I caught Azriel on his way back from the House of Wind and begged for a lift. “And to think I’d just escaped,” he curled his lips in a small smile, welcoming me to jump. I did so knowing that he would catch me. I liked flying with Azriel better than Cassian. Azriel was swifter and less prone to ruining my hair or frightening me with a sudden plummet. 

“How was Rhys?” 

Azriel’s mouth tightened fractionally. I took that as answer enough. “Will you leave for the continent soon?”

“I’ll take them the letter,” I confirmed.  _ Feyre’s letter _ . I felt guilty over it. We had established this connection to the Human Queens by honesty and Feyre’s promise to keep their faith. Now, it was another plot. 

“I meant to stay.” 

“I don’t think I should leave now that...that Rhys might need me,” was it a betrayal to admit he needed support? That he wasn’t infallible?

Azriel nodded curtly. “Good. I had hoped you wouldn’t go.” 

“Why? Conversation dull without me?” I grinned mischievously. “Male ego too much between Rhys, Cass and Lucien all beating their chests?” 

Azriel barked out a quick laugh, shaking his head. “If you ever tell them I laughed, I’d deny it and toss you in the Sidra,” he banked around the House of Wind. Once I’d flown with them, I could understand why Azriel didn’t always travel by shadow. Cold air assaulted my senses in a way that breathed life back into me. It wasn’t comfortable but it was freeing. 

“Thank you, Az,” I patted his shoulder. His eyes glimmered. “You’ve been a good and faithful steed today. I shall feed you a carrot upon my return,” the light flattened and he fell from the porch into the open arms of the wind, choosing to ignore my jest instead of lowering himself to respond. I hoped he heard my laugh. 

All my mirth fell away as I located Rhys and Lucien within the House of Wind. They were comfortable in the library but at a closer glance, neither looked pleased. Both of them were not paying attention to their opened books and when I entered, their heads snapped up. I had interrupted something I had no desire to learn more about. “Mor?” Rhys asked pleasantly, ignoring Lucien’s quick glare.   
“We have to send the Human Queens a response,” I began, ignoring the tension by clasping my hands together. I had a sudden burst of energy, or maybe motivation, to winnow to the continent just to escape. “We need you to write the letter as you’re more familiar with Feyre’s handwriting,” I finished. I barely said her name. I almost choked on it as the slightly amused look in Rhysand’s eyes guttered to nothing. 

“Of course,” he agreed too quickly to be believable. He pulled a piece of paper from the desk and began to write. I thought I’d get away quickly but Rhys continued to speak, keeping me captive as a forced audience. “Lucien says he and Elain might return to the Day Court so Elain can seek more guidance for her abilities.” 

I cringed. This was not a topic I wanted to dip my toe into. “And what is the issue with that?” 

“Rhys doesn’t want us to leave. Or anyone for that matter,” Lucien provided upon Rhys pursing his lips at my reply. He must have thought I’d see the issue immediately. I closed my eyes. Of course Rhys would choose now of all times to let his instincts get the better of him. 

“That’s unfortunate as Elain should receive training where it suits her,” I replied breezily, urging my cousin to get his head out of his ass. 

“We shouldn’t split apart now.” 

“We don’t have a choice,” Lucien replied. “It would not be forever.” 

“I’m aware, fox,” Rhys shot back, glaring. 

“Then you agree, lovely,” I clapped my hands together. This was coming one day or another. The possessiveness. The question remained if he would pull himself from it. If Rhys was capable of separating his actions from his instincts. 

Rhys folded the letter, not spending a moment more looking at it. Yet when I reached for it, he didn’t release it as easily. “You are going to the continent now?” he asked. 

“Rhys, enough. I need to deliver it soon.” 

His cheeks tightened, eyes narrowing. I prepared myself for an argument but his grip on the letter lessened and I took it from him. “Be safe then,” he nodded curtly, turning back to his book. I shared one meaningful look with Lucien before vanishing from their sight. I was no sooner beyond the front doors of the House of Wind before I winnowed halfway across the world. 

The moment I scented the shit of manure in the wheat fields, I breathed out my relief. It was early morning on the continent and the sun was just cresting the Prow mountains. Once my feet touched the dense earth, I collapsed onto my knees sucking in air for all I was worth. I held myself tightly till my ribs ached. Tears were fast and plentiful, burning tracks across my cheeks. I wanted to fall into the ground. Plant myself like a seed and grow back as something better, stronger. 

I didn’t know for what I cried, only that I needed to cry. My family had a gaping hole inside them and I was a useless witness to their pain. I could not fix it. I was just one fae and all I had wrought was more discomfort and sadness. I bottled all my emotion inside me and let it pour out where they could not see it. There was already too much to worry about without the added concern for my well being. My fingers dug into my armor even as my nails protested. 

I bowed my head to touch the earth below, forcing breath through my nose and out my mouth. Dirt brushed my skin. The smell was deeply unpleasant but renewing. My own pain was manageable; not my family’s. 

“Well this is unexpected,” a voice called from behind me. 

I bent my head around, squinting out through the grass to Cresseida standing over me. A fine sheen of sweat glittered on her forehead from a recent session of training. Her armor was still irreproachable in it’s cleanliness, as though no dirt could ever touch her. Even her white hair was unstained. “What are you doing outside the walls?” I grumbled, swiping away at my tears and sitting back on my heels. Brushing off the dirt from my armor like I would find my dignity underneath.

She laughed, the sound mocking and bitter. “They gave me an apartment in the Merchant’s quarters which are outside the city walls conveniently enough. They are by the water,” she shook her head, walking to stand right next to me. I grimaced at the lack of trust the Human Queens displayed. Or maybe lack of respect. Pushing Cresseida far from the royal chambers was bordering rude as I doubt they treated each other so poorly, at least not outwardly. Cresseida, Princess of Adriata, was dining with the Merchants which had to have been a first for the Summer Court royalty. I tried to picture her walking the markets in traditional Summer Court garb. “It’s of no concern. The ocean breeze at least does something for the smell of unwashed filth in their city,” she commented detechedly, flicking off a piece of imaginary dirt from her armor. 

“Where is Lord Remus?” I glanced around for her shadow. 

She smiled pleasantly, white teeth gleaming. “I only need call for his escort into the city.” 

“I didn’t know it was that easy.” I doubted that it was. If I had only to send him away, I would have done so. 

“The Lord doesn’t find my company as pleasant as yours,” she added, grin now turning devious. I squinted harder, wondering how she managed this feat. Lord Remus had escorted me to the point of invasion of my privacy and in less than two days, Cresseida had shirked his presence entirely. She held out a hand to me. “Come on. I’ll show you my tiny apartment. I brought Summer Court wine.” 

“It’s the morning here,” I accepted her outstretched hand, finding her grasp both warm and assuring in it’s steadiness. 

“Are you saying you don’t want it?” She raised an amused brow. I kept silent and followed her back down the field towards the Merchant’s quarters. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 dropped the storyline I intended for Mor which was like the orignal sin of gaslighting a person I never truly wrote. As I really wanted to portray Mor, I hope to give her more chapters now in Part 2.

**Nesta:**

Each day that passed and I didn’t receive any information from the Cauldron was a day that made sleeping at night harder. My heartbeat’s steady and persistent beat told me I was no closer to sleeping than I had been when I first closed my eyes. Cassian’s arm across my waist was heavy. His breath was even, warm waves washing over my skin and smelling slightly like our dinner. 

Cassian tried his best but my mind was beyond us now. He was still facing moving troops and training legions down south. He couldn’t afford staying up with me. I didn’t want him too. 

I couldn’t sneak from bed as I would have originally attempted. Moving from the bed was akin to shouting in Cassian’s ear. As relaxed and heavy of a sleeper he was, the slightest movements would rouse him. As if to let me know he knew where my thoughts had gone, his arm tightened and I was pressed snugly into his side. A puff of cedar scented air hit my nose. I buried my face into his neck, breathing deeply while the night passed me by. 

I decided it was the fear of missing that kept my thoughts from slowing. I couldn’t fathom Feyre trying to reach me and I didn’t hear her call, too peaceful and comfortable with Cassian. 

His wings twitched from where they draped over the far side of the too-large bed. I pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder before laying my head back down. I wouldn’t wake him by leaving so I returned his hold with one of my own and waited for Feyre to reach me. 

**Morrigan:**

Cresseida had said the word  _ apartment  _ and what she meant was  _ single room _ . The bathing room was shared apparently. Cresseida had said she didn’t bother with visiting it. The smell of the apartments was enough to tell me the status of the baths themselves. The interior was clean enough but plain. Walls were a clay stucco with white curtains faded to tan and yellow by long years spent basking in a hot sun. The floors were a red tile filled with a grey sand to keep them from shifting. 

“How do you eat?” I breathed through my mouth. Manure in fields was a natural smell. Shit and disease was not. A part of me wanted to scold the Queens. We fought for human freedom from these poor working conditions and  _ this  _ was how they used that freedom. By reinstating a class system just as cruel and predatory as that which they’d been freed from? I knew my problem was with their ancestors but I was disappointed. I thought somethings would change. I believed humans, with their shorter lifespans, would know how valuable their time here was. Make them kinder somehow. 

“There is a shared cook fire down the hall but I just go to the sea,” she pulled a bottle of Summer Court sparkling wine from her small cabinet. The brown wood was well worn, corners chipped and handles loose. “They have good oysters and clams here. Some crab but they’ve been over harvested.” She fiddled around with the other cabinets, looking inside but huffing when all came away empty. 

“And you cook it?” I raised an incredulous brow. “What are you searching for?” 

“Glasses but it is just another thing I did not think I’d need bring,” she rolled her eyes. “No. I eat them raw.” At my face, she laughed deeply from my belly. I stood awkwardly at the door, not knowing where to place myself. Her cheeks darkened while she continued to find endless enjoyment from my obvious discomfort. “No judgement from you. I’ll show you.” With that, she guided me out the door and down the long dim hallway. Hazy golden sunlight filtered in on the ends where an open stairwell took us to the streets. 

Early in the morning, only the tradespeople were risen. Bread wafted strongly in the air. The Merchant’s quarters housed the craftsmen, bakers, fishers and butchers. Any artists were kept within the city walls as it was considered a high craft which included painters, jewelers, swordsmiths and tailors. As we neared the ocean, the smell of seaweed and salt took over and Cresseida had a valid point. I couldn’t smell any of the grime that the city seemed to emanate. Where the streets blended into the water, docks stretched out into the sea but we found a less busy section to step into. The water was a thin film over the muddy surfaces, some boats were dry docked on the mud. 

The more people about us and the more I noted the stares. I hadn’t seen any of the human quarters while I had camped in the fields beyond the city. I’d made sure I was the smallest disturbance to the human way of life. That was an especially smart move of me as each human had eyes the size of gold coins, struck frozen by the presence of two fae females strutting through their streets. Cresseida ignored them. I attempted a small smile at a baker opening his door but he darted inside for cover. 

“Do not bother, they aren’t ready,” Cresseida shrugged. I turned back to argue but my eyes almost popped. She’d pulled her long skirt up and tied it high on her hip to bare her long calves. With even, slow strides she waded into the water which lapped welcomingly at her. The waves parted around her so as not to get her skirt completely wet. 

“Yes, a nudist is a strange sight,” I laughed. 

Her face bunched up, shooting me a glare. It turned into a smile that she lost the battle at hiding. “I don’t care for ridiculous senses of propriety, they should consider it a lucky blessing,” she nodded definitively, lifting her foot from the mud with a loud squelching noise. Up to her ankles was a thick coating of mud. “Now come on, once the tide comes in you’ll need to dive for breakfast.” 

I was about to remind her I wore pants but I didn’t think she’d care. I kicked off my boots and stepped tentatively into the cold mud. Compared to the steadily warming air that promised another scorching day, it felt calming as the mud squeezed between my toes. Cresseida had been watching me with a glint of amusement that vanished when I looked up. She flicked a white lock behind her shoulder before showing me how to look for the oysters buried under the sand. Her hand disappeared beneath the thin grey water, murky with silt, and with a little digging she pulled an oyster out. 

Her hair fell from her shoulder to swipe over the dark waters, dying a darker color where it touched. I was compelled to save the pristine locks. I reached a hand out and gathered her hair back and hold far from the ocean. 

“The dirt comes out easily enough,” she smiled up at me. “But thank you for saving me the trouble.” I was about to say  _ you’re welcome  _ when I spotted the twitch of her lips. _ She was mocking me.  _ My cheeks burned while I stared down at her. I’d been awkwardly bold. I released her hair and stepped back. She frowned, rising to her full height. “I only jested, Morrigan.” 

“Why are you so at ease right now?” I blurted out. Realizing my mistake, I pulled hard on my magic to save her the trouble. Her mouth opened automatically. Whether she realized my influence or even felt it, I had no idea. “Don’t answer that,” I shook my head quickly, holding my hands out between us. She raised a brow but her mouth closed. The longer we stood, the more I realized she expected an explanation. “Sometimes when I ask questions, you can give me a more honest answer than you’d originally intended. I don’t want to force you to say something you wouldn’t.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, oyster in one hand and dripping salt water down the front of her tunic shirt. Once again, my eyes were distracted by the water running into the fabric to form a stain. “It is a good thing I say exactly what is on my mind,” she declared with a definitive nod of her chin. “I saw you crying and you needed a kind gesture. That is all,” she answered my original question. 

I nodded and kept my lips pressed together for the remainder of the morning. We stepped around the mud field before high tide could wash in. I had a cluster of oysters pressed against my armor, bleeding cold salt water down my body. The sand was a darker kind than I was used to. Almost like mud but bled of color till it was grey. Under my nails were black moons of dirt from my efforts digging. Cresseida had a pile of oysters much larger than mine but she was better at spotting them. I was also half as invested as she was. 

I didn’t like oysters but I figured she could have my catch for breakfast. “What about crabs?” I asked when she said we probably had enough. 

She gave me a funny look. “How old are you?” 

I squinted. “Old.” 

“Old enough to know crabs are found at the  _ bottom  _ of the ocean?” her head half hung to the side. She chuckled at the rising blush from my neck. “It is okay. I won’t tell your High Lord that you have limited fishing experience.” 

“Oh that really saves my hide, why thank you,” I shook my head. “I do not even like oysters,” I huffed indignantly. 

She chuckled. “You’ll like how I prepare them.” Without any further explanation, she guided me through the streets of the Merchant’s quarters with an ease I would not have expected. The human continent has largely changed since I’d last been centuries before. I didn’t think Cresseida had ever stepped foot on the continent. She was born after the War and the humans would never have sent invitations for dinner. 

Cresseida threaded through the now crowded streets with shoulders drawn, uncaring that she drew a slew of stares. I followed behind with all the oysters clutched against my chest. Her white hair acted as a beacon. Decorated as it normally was in seashells, it looked more regal than all the Queen’s gold. I couldn’t decide what would cause worse offense: her high hemline, armor or fae heritage. 

Luckily, more eyes were drawn to Cresseida than me but those that happened to look at me were also quickly offended by my fae-ness. It was a shock. Velaris was home to many humans. The War had made humans my comrades and allies in a gruesome battle. Now, I was just an unwelcome foreigner that they didn’t know whether to hate or fear. 

Cresseida procured a pear and some soft cheese before guiding us back to the shoreline though far from where the fishermen docked. We sat in the sandy dunes on the southern shore. The humidity was blown away by a fresh breeze but the sun bore down harshly on me. I poured the oysters onto the sand and watched with renewed interest as she plucked one, cracked it’s shell and then sliced a piece of cheese and pear to have with the mollusk. 

She handed me the first one. “Try it,” she insisted despite my shaking head. The oyster suspended between us, my eyes flicked nervously from the slimy shell to her vibrant eyes. As serious as she pretended to be, I could feel her obvious enjoyment. I gave in and swept up the creature, slurping it down in the next second before I could think twice. “Did you even taste the cheese or were you intent on making your throat a direct chute to your stomach?”

“I tasted some of it,” I defended.

“Another. This time, chew,” she uncurled my hand to place another opened oyster inside. Her fingers delicately pressed against mine to close my hand on the oyster. I swallowed nervously, raising the oyster back to my mouth. “Slowly,” she insisted. Her focus didn’t waver once from my eyes and neither did mine. The oyster was salty, blending with the rich cheese and sweet pear in a way that wasn’t completely unpleasant. “I can already see I have converted you,” she nodded proudly, quickly returning to opening the remaining oysters to eat. 

“I wish I had been introduced to these oysters first,” I smiled shyly.

“I forgive you,” she laughed. “For not being born in the Summer Court,” she added at first sight of my confusion. I shared her smile before wandering into my own thoughts. How different it would have been if I had been born into another Court. I loved my family, my Court and my life. Yet Cresseida had made a point to me that worried at my thoughts incessantly. The Night Court was infamous for its dual nature, the light and the dark. The only aspect she was allowed to see was it’s unforgiving, harsh side that we all embraced so well in order to protect the good within. Cresseida would never see it’s light, Velaris. 

She could show me as much as she wanted of her home. Teach me how to catch and eat a decent oyster and I’d never have anything to give her in return. The Court of Nightmares was as much a home to me as it was a prison cell. The Illyirian mountains were beautiful from afar but the Night Court populace spread out through the territory didn’t take to outsiders. Cresseida, with her white hair that was like looking directly into the sun and eyes of sea glass, counted as an outsider. I favored some small towns around the Court but largely kept within Velaris where Kier could not reach me. He had a habit of ransacking places I’d visited in my youth as a message:  _ you’re not welcome here.  _ That left me with little to ever share with the woman besides me, no light for her to see. 

Cresseida pulled me from my thoughts with a pro-offered oyster and an encouraging smile. It was the most I’d ever seen her smile and to think, it all happened because she caught me crying in a field of manure. 

I took the oyster and chewed it slowly, enjoying the blend of tastes.  _ It could have been spicier. _ As much as I wanted to rejoin the moment, it felt unreal to me like I could not fully grasp the oyster. All my senses were suspended as if I wasn’t really there and it wasn’t my body. I’d intruded on a moment that didn’t belong to me. Melancholy weighed me down and though I carried on bravely, I felt like a liar. 

A voice whispered in my mind:  _ This does not belong to you.  _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the Day Court and I am pumped

**Elain:**

When Morrigan returned in the late afternoon, Lucien transferred the responsibility of watching over Rhysand for winnowing us to the Day Court. He returned to the townhouse in a flurry of movement. I’d already packed the small bundle of belongings we owned and had parted with my plants, giving their care over to Nesta. I’d written concise instructions and she’d accepted. Despite misguided notions as to her hostility, Nesta could care for my plants with just as much success. The key was diligence but I still noted, with no small pride, my flowering bushes usually bloomed more vibrantly when I saw to them. Of course, that was likely just my ego speaking. 

When it came time, Lucien met me outside the townhouse and brought me close to his chest. No goodbyes or ceremonies to be had. Cassian and Azriel long since departed to the war front to go about their responsibilities. Rhysand was now a permanent hermit within the halls of the House of Wind. Nesta hadn’t hugged me goodbye but she’d lingered on the precipice of crushing me against her and pushing me away. She kept her arms wrapped around her waist as if to keep all last-minute instincts from escaping. I didn’t want to leave her, especially when the wound of Feyre’s absence still festered in the both of us, but I needed to. I couldn’t remain and be useless. 

So I made the silly promises that are expected when one enters the unknown future and said, “I will be safe.” 

Nesta’s rueful smile broke me into a thousand pieces. “You won’t leave the High Lord’s home without Lucien?” she tested, steel eyes flicking to Lucien so he understood just as well. I didn’t miss the curt dip of his head at her thinly veiled instructions. 

In her hands, she held the charmed necklace Lucien made for her. Her long delicate fingers turned over the carved wooden charm, rubbing against the smooth surface. He said it would keep her presence secret but under no circumstance was she to expel her magic while wearing it. He wasn’t sure if there would be any effect but given that raw magic tended to destroy, he thought it best to be safe. 

Smiling tightly, I nodded. “It won’t be for long,” I made another false promise.  _ I hope.  _

She pursed her lips. “You hope.” 

“I hope,” I admitted, nodding with my observant sister. I broke and hugged my sister tightly, wrapping my arms around her neck and squeezing for all I was worth. I wanted to linge, to assure her that I would see her soon but everything promised was meant to be broken. Things we were sure of yesterday fell apart today and that made the future uncertain. I didn’t want to lie but I wished I could lessen the worry she carried. But it was my own feet that stepped back, breaking the hug and returning to Lucien’s side. 

I needed to do this so she didn’t have to worry about the future. The future was my issue now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The long grand halls of the Day Court were just as I recalled. Stepping from one Court to the next, I felt relieved to be basked again in the golden light filtering in from the stained glass windows. The gold metal reflecting dazzling light displays everywhere. For a moment, my troubles were elsewhere and I breathed in the heady air of cinnamon and freshly baked breads. Scents of stale books greeted me and I had a new appreciation for them. 

Another robed servant greeted us with a serene smile. “Lord Lucien. Lady Seer. We welcome you back to our halls,” his posture was relaxed but his eyes were alight, brown and warm. He clasped his hands tight and only because I had too tried it, I knew it was to keep them from fidgeting. The nervousness of the servants out of sheer desire to please was something I had not missed in the Day Court. The awe they held us in and how that led to awkwardly long stares or excessively long pleasantries exchanged. 

The Night Court had been a respite from the special treatment; no one in Velaris cared when we walked among them. They barely blinked when Rhysand stood in their taverns, markets or squares. It was common enough for them to see him. They knew better than to gawk when Cassian or Azriel flew above them. Though people stared when Morrigan walked by but not because of status. I’d yet to place my finger on it but Morrigan had an  _ air  _ about her. It wasn’t just beauty, strength or even magic. It was in the way she walked, and her kind eyes when she greeted a person. A disarming charm that was no illusion but an honest window into her warm personality. 

Now, back among the Day Court, I knew I’d miss the anonymity granted in the Night Court. No hiding away in our rooms now. 

Lucien nodded awkwardly at the greeting, still on the fence of where he stood with the Day Court. “Would it be possible to meet with High Lord Helion when he next returns?” Lucien followed up, hand tightening on my waist. 

“Our High Lord is in residence now. I will see if he is able to receive you,” the servant bowed his head. Lucien and I shared a weary glance. We both were caught off guard that Helion would be here instead of seeing to the war front. In our short stay, we’d only seen him at our shared dinners late at night. “Eliza will take you to your chambers to dress.”  _ Oh _ , glancing down at my pink dress with little embroidered golden stars, I was firmly out of place in the hall of neutral colors. Nuala and Cerridwen had gone out of their way to procure dresses for Nesta and I that met standards of human modesty but were firmly Night Court in origin. Long sleeved dresses with wide fanning skirts, tied at the waist and normally embroidered extensively or sewn with small bells or gems. Feyre’s usually missed the midsection of her dress and I’d never worked the courage to ever wear one of similar styles. 

I was pleased to find the dress I’d favored during our last stay laid out on our bed. They’d moved us to a different apartment this time where only one bed was kept. Instead of embarrassment, I felt pleased. With a discreet glance at Lucien, I nodded to myself. He was my mate. 

The walls were white but brown curtains hung from the floor to ceiling glass windows and doors. Golden light streamed in where they broke apart. The richly brown tiled floor had inlaid gold within the cement. Everything cast in shades of neutrals with gold embellishments besides for the bed that was the most colorful, a deep maroon duvet. The air smelled exactly like a sweetened cup of black tea.

“Look what was also moved,” Lucien called from the patio. When I walked to join him, pleased to see we still had a view of sprawling gardens, I found all my potted plants from before arranged similarly. “I’d say Helion is trying to win you over.”

“He should know better than to think I could sway you so easily,” I placed a hand on my hip. 

Lucien detected my mirth through the bond. Looking up, he peered discerningly. Ears twitching to grasp my meaning. “But you do hold sway over me.” 

My grin widened. The happiness I felt thawed at all my previous numbness. It was new to me now, this ease. I was jealous and also pitying of the woman who didn’t know misery at all. It would take time but I would find her again. When I had accomplished my goals as a Seer, this happiness would be more forthcoming. “I’m glad that’s clear for you,” I nodded, casting an appreciative glance over him. His chuckle followed me as I walked back to change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eliza led us to where Helion was set up, on another large veranda but this one had large white stone pillars wrapped with ivy so green it made my heart ache. Though I’d shed several layers and one set of undergarments to dress in Day Court fashion, I was not at all chilled by the open air patio. His wards kept the air permanently warm like a summer day when the sun was just descending and the air was hot and still. Not stuffy at all but calm and relaxing. 

Helion radiated light where he sat, basking in the sun’s glow. His golden crown shining beautifully along his golden arm bands and bracelets. Looking at him might have begun to hurt if I continued staring. Yet I believed the effect to be entirely due to his magic as the High Lord only offered us a weary smile. He had many papers strewn about him and books flipped open but with a wave of his hand, they vanished from sight. 

“And you’ve returned home,” he nodded, voice giving away nothing but eyes locked with Lucien’s. When Lucien didn’t say anything, he turned to me. “I am sorry about your sister. I am sorry I didn’t do more.” 

I hadn’t expected that. It felt like a punch to my stomach. All previous notions of mirth tasted like ash on my tongue and shame rose inside me. What kept my breathing steady was the heat emanating from Lucien’s hand into mine and the purpose for our arrival. I used it to ground me. I shouldn’t run and hide myself away because I needed to do this for myself and for Feyre. I nodded stiffly. “It was my failure,” I whispered back. 

My admission took both males by surprise. Lucien looked to me in shock. “Elain…”

“It was,” I reaffirmed, meeting his eyes. I hardened mine so he could see my resolve to not let my shame kill me. I failed and now I would try again. Though trying again made my blood freeze inside me and threatened to choke me, I pushed through it. “We’re here because of me.” 

Any and all mirth vanished from Helion’s face, replacing it with a sober one that held no judgement. Instead, I found all the makings of empathy on the High Lord’s face. He had tried to warn us. He’d told us that leaving before I had control of my abilities was dangerous and ill-advised. We hadn’t listened. Though he had every reason to haughtily remind us of this, he shook his head slowly and hazarded a deep breath. “Then I am more sorry that you are here.” 

I nodded stiffly, glancing down at my feet when the tears threatened to emerge. My one hand fidgeted endlessly, picking at my nail beds without remorse. 

He held out his hands, motioning to the two empty seats he always seemed to have open. “Care to sit?” Instead of summoning his normal tray of liquors, tea was brought out and I was more grateful for that. I poured myself black tea and brought the hot cup to my lips, forcing myself to accept the bitter taste. 

Helion and Lucien waited patiently while I gathered my words. “I saw too little of my visions and...I didn’t know what they meant. I don’t know anything of Prythian,” I sighed tiredly. “I can’t possibly know what course to take if I can’t understand my visions. Not that there is much one to take.” 

“What do you mean?” Helion asked, pouring himself tea but leaving the mug untouched. 

“I cannot tell others what I see so it’s up to me to devise warnings and that’s...ineffective,” I swallowed, remembering Feyre’s insistence that she charge into N’simura herself. I had the visions wrong but even if N’simura was a danger to Feyre’s life, I should have been able to guide her down a different path. I was breathing hard through my mouth when I spoke next, “And I cannot guide anyone if I cannot even see the entire future. All my glimpses are worthless if they are misleading.” 

Helion nodded as I spoke, squinting hard at the table. “You’ve not...told anyone about the contents of your visions?” 

“No one. Not even Lucien,” Lucien’s hand tightened on mine. If I could tell anyone, I’d confide in him. He is an excellent listener. “Why do you ask?”

“Visions can turn against the Seer if they betray their trust,” he said ominously, still not meeting my gaze. 

“You make them out to be...alive.” 

“Where else do you believe visions to come from?” The question surprised me for I had no response. I’d figured it was a part of magic and hadn’t thought much longer on the subject. To be honest, I tried my hardest not to contemplate the workings of my visions lest it summon another. 

“Are you actually claiming visions are from the Mother?” Lucien recoiled, glaring at Helion like he actually took offense to the blasphemy. Lucien had never seemed a strong practitioner to me; he was more annoyed Helion was making such a grand statement. 

“ _ Mother _ ,” Helion spat. “Like those Cauldron-obsessed High Priestesses, the Mother is another false idol. A name for something beyond us that we can’t understand. I do not know what gifts Elain her visions but you too must admit that it is something  _ other _ . An  _ else  _ exists not Fae or human,” Helion followed up, glaring at Lucien. “Do  _ not  _ call me a fanatic until you are prepared to give me a more plausible argument.” 

If this was a common belief of the Day Court, I could see why the servants revered me so. Blood rushed to my head while a wave of dizziness swept over me. “That’s a ridiculous sentiment,” I breathed out, pressing a hand to my forehead. Lucien supported my back, other hand reaching for my cheek. “This is not some Mother-blessed gift. This is a curse.”

Helion’s mouth popped open, visibly recoiling in his chair. “It is not a curse. It is an untrained ability that is burdensome like all power-” 

“Do not lecture me about my own abilities. I’ve seen enough blood to paint this world thrice over. Even if it is my responsibility to prevent that bloodshed, I would not wish it on anyone to have to experience it as I have,” my voice hushed to a whisper. All the battles and wars that I had seen and what killed me most were the small betrayals: the knife in the back and poison slipped into a cup. It was a strain not to let it poison my thoughts. I wanted to believe beyond a shadow of doubt that the world was still a beautiful place but my visions did everything in their power to corrupt that. 

I hadn’t glanced at my mate but I felt the mixture of emotions through our bond. The pain most evident. Helion had sat very still while I spoke with eyes that missed nothing. What I said hadn’t shocked him in the least but only made him more sad. 

“I did not wish to presume,” Helion breathed out. “I was not thinking. Forgive me.” 

I twisted my fingers. “That isn’t necessary, just teach me what I need to know so at the very least I might be able to do something about them.” 

He smiled slightly but he still seemed more sad than I’d seen him previously. He’d met the last Seer; he knew how the visions had turned against the Seer and now I wondered how much I reminded him of them. “You’ll be tutored on Prythian immediately,” he assured. 

“But how will that help controlling my visions?” 

“Child, your visions can not be controlled,” I squinted at the use of ‘child’ but couldn’t take offense. Everyone must seem like a child to Helion. “And you’ll spend additional time learning poetry and riddles.” 

“That’s not just a myth?” Lucien raised a brow. 

Helion laughed. “No. Not a myth,” at my confused glance, he added, “Seers are portrayed to speak in riddles or poems but it was a convenient way to reveal key messages without delving into the vision.” 

“Doesn’t it betray the visions' contents anyway?” 

He snorted, “You’ll find interpretation of the riddles and poetry is much less clear cut on the receiving end.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucien and I walked back in the late afternoon to our chamber in relative solace. Alone with our thoughts, our hands were intertwined. He opened the door to our apartments for me and ushered me inside. “What are you thinking of?” I asked, tugging on his hand till we were chest to chest. He’d been pensive for the majority of our conversation with Helion. All I got over the bond was his thoughtfulness, expressed through worry and only the slightest excitement. 

“That Helion’s lost his mind in his old age,” Lucien heaved a sigh, smiling wrly. 

“You don’t believe in the Mother, I take it,” I chuckled. 

“Believing in the Mother and making a claim on the Mother’s favor are two entirely different concepts. There could be a Mother but do I believe your gifts are so blessed?” he raised a disbelieving brow. His smile faded and he pressed his forehead to mine. “They are not gifts though...not to you.” 

“It’s hard to think of them that way,” I admitted. Seeing the drop in his face, I pressed my palm to his face. My thumb skimmed over the rough skin about his scar, the proof of how ugly this world could be and he wore it so proudly. “But if my abilities gave me you then they are a gift and I will not question that,” I stood on my tippy toes to press my lips to his. He held me there, his arms reaching down to pull me up onto his waist so my legs could wrap around. His hands went to my thighs to hold me steady and I leaned on his chest, my arms over his shoulders to skim the muscles of his back on display. 

“I’m still wondering about that as well. What I did,” he mumbled against my lips. 

“Maybe it isn’t what we did but what we will do.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) my hand slipped

**Nesta:**

Morrigan found me in Amren’s apartment, summoning my magic as Amren instructed me before she had disappeared. Alis normally brought tea and refreshments at exactly an hour past twelve and this was the first time she was late. I found the reason to be Morrigan who was in tow when Alis brought in her tray.

“I found Lady Morrigan at the door,” Alis replied with a wry smile. She understood my need for isolation. I didn’t aim to be rude but I needed that separation, the distance. It would protect them if I got out of hand. Though after continuous days of Amren testing the limits of my control, I had grown more confident since we had begun. Summoning and destroying came quickly at my finger tips but Amren called those  _ parlor tricks _ . She said the real power was wielding my raw magic, what I could do with raw magic and where I could direct it. 

Her eyes illuminated when she spoke of it. She’d possessed it, still does but it’s significantly hindered by her fae prison. She said there is a special thrill of wielding raw magic; you can feel the blood in your veins just as well as the water running up a tree’s trunk. The connection that inherently bonded all life was visible when summoning raw magic and that was precisely what she wanted me to aim for. 

I was aiming but missing so far. 

Sweat beaded my brows but no raw magic yet. Since the time I burned Feyre, it had been fickle in appearing. It would quickly devolve into creation or destruction. Normally, by the spontaneous appearance of goblets or the shattering of Amren’s glass ceiling. I had jested then that Amren could afford to replace the damage done to her windows with the golden goblets I’d summoned. She’d bared her teeth at me. I’d shrugged. She should have designed her home to be less fragile if she expected to house the two of us. 

Morrigan crept up the stairs, peering in at me. “Are you okay, Nesta?” she asked softly, eyeing my contemptuous face.   
“Peachy,” I replied, fixing my face into it’s blank mask. 

Alis crouched before me, placing several small dishes in front of me. “Bron is attempting something with plums, let me know if he has succeeded, my Lady,” a tart sat in front of me with baked plums glazed in something sticky and sweet. Amren didn’t give Alis direct orders. In fact, it had been largely the other way around. I found that relationship also extended to me as Alis kept providing me with tarts. They realized my weakness for fruit-flavored anything and had jumped on the chance. Elain had the sweet tooth. 

“What is it?” I called Morrigan forward, plucking the tart up. My fingers were coated in the sugary glue upon contact. “I thought you’d be on  _ High Lord watch _ .” 

“High Lord watch isn’t over,” Rhysand’s voice called up the stairs. 

Morrigan scowled. “Stop being a pain and go sit.” When he’d obeyed, she walked to stand before me next to Alis. “I wanted to wait till you were finished but I figured you’d want privacy,” she explained. As she did, her hands unwrapped a heavy-bound package. Inside was a silver scaled breastplate, painted black for the Night Court, with silver shoulders and completed by the black leather vambrace, gauntlets and greaves. She placed the armor down and opened a second parcel that held a black tunic shirt and churidars. “Your boots aren’t finished yet.” 

“What detail,” Alis reached a delicate hand out to graze the scaled armor. “Each scale attached by hand...and painted,” she breathed out. 

“I can’t wear a dress?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the churidars to see what Alis was crying over. Swallowing became hard.  _ You knew this would be hard. Stop complaining and get it over with.  _

Morrigan shook her head, chewing on her lower lip. “The idea is to impress upon the Human Queens we are fighting a war.” 

“But we are fighting a war.” 

“And having one of our warriors appear in a dress does not show that.” It was easy to see her point when she stood before me, devoid of her battle armor and clad in beautiful red churidars and a cropped red shirt to match. With golden earrings hanging from her beautifully curved ears and wrists clattering in golden bangles, she didn’t look like she could level a battle field. Perhaps level a dinner party. 

I scowled. “Feyre was a painter before she was any of this, should I show up in paint-stained clothes?” Feyre had only joined the fray months ago. Before that, she was a fae Lady of the Spring Court and even before that, she was a human who had fallen in love with the wrong male. Regardless, she was my sister before she became their Lady, soldier or leader. I thought wearing her armor was a bad symbol to attribute with her. It would be akin to describing me with the symbol of the Cauldron. I had been alive and well before I’d become the Cauldron’s Keeper. 

“She really could paint too,” Alis whispered, earning stares from Morrigan and I. “She painted when she was still human in the Spring Court,” she added cautiously. I could understand her hesitation. The Courts didn’t leave much room for  _ grey areas _ . You either became a loyal subject to a Court or you accepted you were an outsider. Alis was very much a grey area and Feyre’s past too. Elain and I now as well. 

“What did she paint?” Morrigan asked quietly, staring at the armor. 

Alis snorted. “Everything.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Churidars were not too different from dresses. They were pants but they were loose-fitting pants, breezy. I didn’t particularly enjoy the sensation of fabric on my inner thighs but I could ignore it. What I couldn’t ignore was the nagging feeling I was on display. Nothing I wore was less modest than my normal dresses yet I was exposed in a different way. Even in the mirror Morrigan offered, I looked very similar to Feyre. If I braided my hair down my spine like she so often did, we would be difficult to tell apart. Next to each other, the differences were much more obvious but to the Human Queens, I would suffice. 

I hadn’t realized how difficult armor was to wear. It was like carrying sacks of flours about my neck wherever I stepped. My fae strength should have made it easier but that wasn’t the case. I needed to adjust still to the weight on top of me. 

Morrigan nodded, muscles in her throat working. “It fits.” A pang struck at my gut again. The Cauldron hadn’t given me any more visions. All I could do at the moment was act in my sister’s stead and that ate away at me the longer they looked.

“It’s very tight,” I agreed, picking at the buckles digging into my ribcage. 

“We can loosen those; you won’t be heading into battle,” Morrigan assured, coming to help loosen my buckles. “It’s a little short for a breast plate but I suppose the Queens won’t notice such a detail. We’ll have to get you Feyre’s sword.” 

“Cassian has that,” I supplied. Morrigan went back to nodding a little too quickly. Her golden curls bobbed up and down excitedly. 

“It fits, we can get you out now,” Morrigan ushered Alis back to my side and they helped assist me out of my armor. Alis took care so none of the silver scales snagged my hair. I was all too aware of how like Feyre I appeared and that made me feel a special gratuity towards Morrigan, for her foresight. This was not something I would have wanted to do while the others were near and I blessed Morrigan for knowing this. 

This wasn’t Feyre’s true armor but it was enough to make Morrigan’s eyes water. She tried her best but I could smell the salty tang. I was glad Rhysand remained downstairs, even more glad that Cassian, Azriel and Lucien were elsewhere. I didn’t want to see the grief in their eyes more than feel it in my own heart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even long after Morrigan and Alis helped me back into my own dress and I’d returned to the townhouse, I didn’t feel like myself. Maybe it was the Cauldron steadily pulling at my mind or maybe the comparisons being drawn between Feyre and I. Either way, it left me with an unstable sense of self. I couldn’t get rid of the imagery of footprints in the mud and how it didn’t take much for them to be erased by leaves or rain. If I looked too long in the mirror, I’d fade away and be replaced with someone or something else. 

Cassian found me still starring in the mirror. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He smelled more strongly of cedar and sweat so he hadn’t been on the front today, more training. “I heard Lucien gave you a ward to protect you when you leave Velaris,” he began. 

I turned to look at him, my hand rising instinctually to the carved piece of wood dangling from my neck. It wasn’t there. I had left it in the townhouse when I went to train. Lucien had insisted I not use my magic when wearing it. “Yes, it is downstairs,” I nodded. 

He raised both eyebrows, smile drawing across his full lips. “Would you like to test it out?” he asked, finally a full grin breaking out. 

“I suppose  _ you  _ would like to test it out,” I corrected. 

“I’d love to, thank you for asking,” he waved me forward. 

We were airborne in the time it took for me to don my warm cloak and find the charm sitting in the kitchen. I’d never been past Velaris since I was Made and that had comforted me initially. Hybern couldn’t touch me and the city wards were proof of that. The longer I stayed, the less of a threat Hybern seemed and instead the walls I once found comforting were now cloying. As long as Hybern lived and the Cauldron was outside my possession, the longer I remained captive inside Velaris. I didn’t want to stay forever. It was still too crowded and I wanted someday to build my own life. 

A piece of me echoed that Hybern wasn’t a threat. I knew my magic could perform whatever gruesome task I asked of it. It might not want to form raw magic yet but it had no qualms with general destruction. I promised myself then that if I was ever in front of Hybern, I would direct all my magic’s malice towards him. However, since Hybern’s location was perpetually unknown and he had my sister, he remained a threat. 

Cassian emanated heat and sweat so I felt cozy in spite of the fierce wind. I laid back against his shoulder and took in the endless display of pines. The city was behind us and now it was dense forests that were thick with snow. He tightened his grip on me, readying to speak. “If you look north, you can see the northern sea,” he said but all I saw were mountains capped with more snow. Beyond them lay the Illyrian mountains. We descended towards the pine forest below which was just as well, my hands were starting to feel the cold. 

“What shall I explore with this new found freedom?” I asked him when we touched on the snow. The wind made the trees howl in my ears. The woods were completely still beneath the moon, just enough silver light to cast the forest floor in a hazy, cold glow. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Nothing without someone with you,” he said, voice testing. Something changed in his eyes, beyond the normal glean in their hazel depths. He stepped towards me slowly and I had the distinct impression of being stalked, that if he didn’t lunge for me now I’d disappear altogether. 

“If Hybern cannot find me-” 

“The Night Court isn’t a place to go frolicking in, Nes,” he hissed back, chest now pressed to mine. “I’m serious.”

I sucked in, crisp air making my lungs burn. “As am I. I do not frolick and I’m not human.” Something in me said I should have stopped speaking. I should agree that I would be safe and not so reckless but curiosity was pulling at my mind. I wanted to know. “My magic would see to my safety.” 

His brows raised. “Your magic?” he asked dumbly. 

“Yes.” 

I thought he was about to lecture me that I was too weak but he bypassed that argument entirely. “Your magic doesn’t help you against shit if you are struck with faebane,” he insisted. His eyes turned turbulent and dark, nostrils flaring. Breath hit my face in an not entirely unpleasant manner. The white clouds of our exhales intermingled between us like we could see the clash of our words. “Which would be the  _ first _ move anyone with a pulse makes against someone who practically leaks magic.” 

With him staring me down, a small smile formed on my lips. “Good to know.” 

He swore. “Nes, do not scare me.” 

“Do I? Scare you?” 

His hand went to my waist. “The danger you place yourself in scares me,” he admitted, fingers holding my chin steady so he could look into my eyes. His voice dropped, “You, however, do not.” He leaned forward and I met him with my lips, feeling the temperature difference between him and I. He practically burned. His arm swept around my waist pressing me to him, finally preventing all escape and the other swept low to my thigh. 

“I’m not in danger with you,” I believed it. Even knowing what magic I had and exactly how twisted it was, I trusted Cassian more. I trusted his ability than anything the Cauldron could grant me. His wings flared at the praise. 

“Stay with me,” he breathed against my lips, eyes fluttering shut. One of my hands combed through his hair, freeing it from the tie. “Don’t go then. Just stay with me.” His hands bunched up my gown, cold air drawing gooseflesh across my newly exposed legs. The smell of my arousal drew his attention; he breathed in deeply. His fingers dug into my skin, a pleasant pressure that sent tingles up my spine. The winter night made everything feel sharper. Where he touched me was all I could think of as it was the only part of me that felt warmth. 

I couldn’t answer that. I’d leave at one point. “I’m here,” I nodded. He pulled me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, frantic to show that I was here for as long as I could be. His breathing was hard in my ear. I kissed a trail down his jawline. One of my hands curled in his hair while the other jerked my dress up. Cold air rushed in but I was warm from where he touched me. A thought somewhere occurred that Cassian didn’t have enough hands but the new pressure of his cock on my inner thigh silenced all my doubts. 

My decision to wear undergarments that morning was a poor one but easily fixed as a sharp  _ rip  _ sounded in the air. We both huffed our laughter. “I hope that wasn’t your dress,” he mumbled, kissing my ear lobe. As if in answer, my dress flapped from the wind. 

“I couldn’t care less if it were,” I nodded, finding his mouth and kissing him back with fervor. I didn’t want to go back to Velaris. I wanted to stay with him where I felt so warm. He thrusted into me. The sensation spread through me until I was focused only on where he was and where I wanted him. I groaned lowly, biting my lower lip. My eyes rolled back underneath my lids. He held himself back, hands gripping hard on my thighs as he ground himself at my core. When I’d adjusted, he tested another thrust to find my answering moan more pleasure-filled. He mumbled something unintelligible, kissing my head. His face was buried in my hair. I held myself so close to him, not willing to relinquish my grip on him for anything, even though my arms ached. 

In the quiet of the woods, the collection of our low moans and huffed breaths were the only sounds for leagues. Alone with nothing but the moon above us, I was completely at ease and utterly alive. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oddly enough, this entire chapter was written to The Beatles, A Day in the Life. 
> 
> Also I think one of my readers just read renew part I and part II in under two days and I don't know what to do with that info. Dear reader, are you okay? do you have an emergency contact?

**Feyre:**

I thought they’d attempt to weaken me by the predictable methods. Dose me with faebane followed by hours of torture and then leave me in the dark to rot. I prepared myself mentally for the pain. I spent my hours of solace listening to my heart until the steady thrum told me I was alive with the rhythmic chanting  _ I am I am I am.  _ My senses faded away until the unpleasant fish smell was an afterthought and the ship’s sway on the waves lulled me into a different reality. 

Only two thoughts brought me back. One was the very real chill in the air that gnawed at me. It was ever present. I trembled constantly. My bones felt loose and achy inside me. They hadn’t given me a shirt yet. I figured I should stop thinking that they would but that hope refused to die out. A phantom draft blew over my bare skin. Without my magic, the cold was impossible to ignore while it ate away at my strength. Leeching my patience, awareness and a host of other things away with it. 

The last thought was of Rhysand. Still unreachable by our mental bond, I could only guess as to where he was and what he was thinking. The  _ what ifs  _ were threatening to drive me mad faster than Hybern could ever dream of doing himself. The longer I went not knowing the fallout from N’simura, the longer I went believing it all had ended in a similar fashion to my mission to Adriata. 

When those thoughts stirred I had to work fast to shut down my mind. I forced my focus onto something more present and distracting: my ever looming escape. Sometimes that worked and other times, I had to bite back tears. 

I was weakening myself with my circus of thoughts and I had a feeling Hybern knew it as well. Planned that being starved of my mate, I’d crumble. I could only surmise that he expected the same of Rhysand. Furthermore, my thoughts wreaked havoc on me sitting in a room with Tamlin. I exhausted myself with all the ways I wanted to kill the male. I only avoided hating myself for being so foolish by the promise I’d repay the favor. Though if my own mind was the kindling beneath me, my hunger was the spark that would set me aflame and finally reduce me to ash. Starvation as a human had prepared me for this. I knew I could handle it but any day now, even my preexposure wouldn’t be enough. I was already closing in on that limit. My stomach hadn’t learned it would not be getting fed so it growled endlessly. It was an exhaustive wait on what would kill me first: hunger, torture or myself. 

I only knew time had passed by Jurian’s regular appearance to dose Tamlin and I with faebane-laced water. When the door opened, another day had gone by. 

Tamlin had attempted once more to speak with me but I hadn’t allowed it. I’d had a particularly terrifying thought that all my family was dead and I was the last alive. I couldn’t unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth to reply. Even if I could’ve, I was suspecting my jaw was wired shut to keep my pathetic cry locked in my throat. 

The door opened again and Jurian swept in, looking distraught as usual.  _ Another day then.  _

This time, he wasn’t alone. Several soldiers dressed in Hybern’s colors marched in behind him and flanked Tamlin and I. Jurian made us both drink the poisonous water before unlatching us from the poles. When we were made to stand, my legs had lost all feeling so I was dragged to my feet. My legs were lost to me by the painful sensation of a thousand tiny pin pricks as blood surely rushed to give them life. “If the female struggles, beat her senseless. If the male struggles, kill him.” 

_ Well at least I know my worth.  _

I didn’t test the leniency of Jurian’s directions by asking questions. I figured I didn’t want to know anyway.

The two of us were dragged down the hallway and up a steep staircase to the top deck. Each thud of their boots marched in time to my pounding heart. The dim torchlight was enough to slightly blind me. Thankfully, it was night when they brought me out onto the deck so the brightest offense to my eyes was the waning moon. I tried my best not to stare at the sky. My throat closed anyway. 

A black shadow sat before the ship, making the horizon less discernible. Between the sway of the ship and my eyes adjustment, I had a hard time figuring what blotchy shape I was looking at. I wasn’t given much time. The soldiers marched me to the port side. Below sat two tiny rowboats manned by three soldiers a piece. 

A hard shove and I lurched through the air without warning. I plummeted quickly down the ship’s side. A cold wind blew past me before I hit the water. Knives punctured my skin and I opened my mouth in a scream silenced by salt water. My back arched while I tried to keep the frigid ice water from touching my bare spine. I failed to recognize I was sinking. My hands were cuffed. My tied ankles couldn’t propel me forward even if my legs still didn’t lag behind my commands.

Thoughts streamed past me. Training drilled into me that went clear through me without any commands finding my useless limbs. Everywhere I looked it was dark. Which way was up? I was sinking but down was subjective to my tired mind. 

My lungs strained and I lost the battle, opening my mouth for salt water to rush in. I was saved further pain by a sharp pull of my wrists, invisible by the dark murky depths. Tugged upward, I was wrenched from the sea like a fish caught on a hook. My waist hit the side of the rowboat, forcing the water from my mouth. I vomited in quick succession. Voices and shouts around me were beyond concern. Pounding in my head, pain in my muscles and the tremor of my body told me I wasn’t dead. 

My skin felt like it’d combust if I didn’t get air; I sucked it in greedily not sure if I’d pass out or not. I sputtered water, spitting when I could summon the energy. I trembled violently. There was nothing to distance myself from the wet cold. My one shoe-less foot seized in a muscle cramp. 

Something draped over me. It covered my head but it stopped the wind from whipping me raw. I huffed quickly, trying to conserve the heat while I could. I rubbed my thighs and arms together as much as I could while still chained. I only succeeded in chafing myself while the salt dried on my skin, making it itchy. 

More hands groped messily at my waist and hauled me upright, my back hitting another piece of wood harshly. A soldier crouched in front of me, fingers fumbling with my cloak to arrange it around me. I didn’t have the energy to glare or care that I was shirtless. I figured the male only had days to live if I escaped in time. 

Wind roared in my ears along with the crash of waves. I was being tossed inside the rowboat from the ocean; my tortured stomach threatened another upheaval. Someone was yelling. I finally was lucid enough to establish its owner and decipher the words. Jurian, still on the deck of the ship, was screaming down. His eyes searched the water frantically. A looming thought reared its ugly head. Something was missing. Only Jurian and the guards who carried us stood up at the top deck. 

_ Where was Tamlin?  _

I looked to the water where Jurian’s frantic search continued. Dull emotion churned within me. Should I have felt the measure of sadness that I did? Probably not. I forced myself not to care that the blond male hadn’t yet emerged even as moments ticked by. My world was shrinking. I’d lost my family. Now I had lost my only companion in my unending hell. 

I guess we would figure out if I was an Heir of Seven Courts. 

Gasps hit my ears. Two heads broke the surface. A soldier had Tamlin in one arm. His open mouth told me he was still alive, going through what I had to force air back into my lungs. “I said be ready to catch them,” Jurian screamed from the top deck.

“Th...They sunk faster-” a low grunt preceded the soldier’s fall backwards. He tipped over the rail of the rowboat into the dark churning ocean. He didn’t emerge. By arrow or knife, he’d been killed quite neatly. 

“Anyone else fucking listening to me?” Jurian roared. His voice carried to my ears to be lost in the wind around us. The small sliver of moonlight lit up the strain in Jurian’s neck. How wide his eyes were and his tight, white-knuckled grip on the ship railing. His shaggy brown hair tossed about in the breeze as he leaned halfway over the ship to scream his directives, like he’d been ready to dive after us as well. 

As I huddled against the side of the rowboat, I attempted to retain the small amount of body heat I retained. The cold ship wood and stiff roughspun cloak I’d been handed did little but they were practically a campfire compared to the ocean. Unending and dark. All the while, I stared up at Jurian until his eyes found mine. The press of his lips and hardness in his eyes yielded little to me but I found them more human. I recognized that human soul lost somewhere inside him. 

His jaw tightened. “Bring them to the prisons and do not lose them,” he ground out. 

The shadow looming over us made sense now. We’d arrived at the Island of Hybern after days of sailing. Finally. 

The two remaining soldiers in the skiff rowed me to the shoreline, only separated by Tamlin by a few waves. His blond head barely visible over the railing, illuminated by soft moonlight. I wasn’t alone in this torture afterall. 

I felt too many things. I was relieved. Not for the fact he was still alive but that I wasn’t alone yet. I felt it best not to care too much what that said about me. A darkness was stretching over my mind. It had been for the past few days, reaching its great arms around me to swallow me whole. The further it dragged me in, the less I cared to examine the course my thoughts took. I didn’t resist it.  _ I’d deal with the fallout in my mind, my heart when I escaped. _

I thought of Rhysand. Of how ruthlessly his character was flayed for his facade while under Amarantha’s control. He was not blameless. He made his choice, placing his Court above all else, and accepted the venom spat at him. He made the decision and accepted the consequences wrought. Including the irrevocable destruction of his reputation. 

As I eyed Tamlin’s blond head, I felt a fire kindling low inside me. My eyes burned from the wind drying them out but I refused to tear away my harsh gaze. Tamlin would not  _ die _ in handcuffs at Hybern’s hands. That would make him capable of seeking martyrdom. Even if his deception was publicly revealed, he would become the High Lord who died trying to get back the female he loved even when it led him down the path of self-destruction. When the tales were told of this war, he would be regarded as a romantic figure. A male who corrupted himself so fully to regain his love. Someone might even make a song about him. 

_ No.  _ I didn’t accept that ending. 

Hybern couldn’t kill him. Tamlin owed me his life and I wouldn’t accept him becoming a martyr here. He was a traitor. He shouldn’t get such an easy out. If he were to drown, that would be considered too easy. Not while I remained in captivity, the cage he had erected for me. I wanted him to feel the weight of his shame before he died. It needed to be public knowledge what the High Lord of Spring had become. Everyone in the world needed to know that Tamlin had destroyed something beautiful for his own selfish ends. He’d torn a family asunder, ripped mates apart and risked a war because he couldn’t possess something he desired to keep. 

There was no such thing as an easy death for such a person. 

When I escaped, I was taking Tamlin with me. I didn’t need him to be judged guilty by the High Lords. I barely cared for their input. I would find a punishment that suited his crimes and I’d execute it myself. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated this chapter. Y'all can thank QueenAmydien.

**Nesta:**

In the days leading up to leaving for the continent, I came to appreciate Morrigan more. She never intruded into my personal spaces like the room Cassian and I shared or attempted to reach me in the library. She’d find me at Amren’s or in the living area if she needed me and kept our business brief. It ranged from preparing me for the Human Queen’s behavior to asking questions I should expect to answer. The tricky dealings of court politics and so on. 

She hadn’t expected me to have decent responses to these but she didn’t know I had a few years under my mother’s wing: maneuvering a ball room is almost the same as a court. You assume everyone is vying for control and has the worst intentions and make decisions accordingly. Though the hardest questions to answer were, admittedly, about the Night Court. I felt no patriotic loyalty to the Night Court. It was another piece of land that had a semi-decent High Lord with questionable ethics. Answering without the hint of distaste was difficult for me and that was unacceptable. I couldn’t give the impression I favored any single Court any more than I hated them. The Human Queens wanted to believe they could trust us because Feyre wasn’t raised among the Courts and had human core values. Feyre represented a true neutral even though that was unrealistic for her real role; however, I knew my sister. 

Feyre loved the Night Court but I could never see her valuing a person’s life over another just because of their origin. That was where we differed. For the people I loved, I had no choice in the matter because there was but one option. 

“Queen Sawaged is the most quiet but I think that is because she barely hears a word of what is being said,” Morrigan prepared me. Queen Sawaged was very old and had several promising daughters that could have arrived in her stead but she came herself. Morrigan couldn’t decide if this was a sign of respect or a grim understanding if there is a slaughter, her line is secure. 

Morrigan told me of Queen Juno, _the Golden Queen_. A title I grimaced at. I wasn’t surprised to find that Lord Remus, Morrigan’s intolerable chaperone, was also the Queen’s cousin. Though she hinted the Lord wouldn’t be a problem. Despite all that biased me, apparently Queen Juno was well-liked and considered to have a kind heart. My opinion on this was if it wasn’t like Elain’s heart, then they couldn’t claim to be kind. Not many people reached the standard my younger sister set. Morrigan suspected that Queen Garnier was particularly nasty but kept in check by Queen Nuru, as it was her city and she would have the final say.

The last queen was Queen Hanyu who Morrigan had proudly stated descended from a half-fae, half-human line. Other than her ancestors, Morrigan hadn’t much praise for the Queen. 

“I’ll only spend as much time as it requires to get them to hand over the book,” I glanced to Morrigan while she buckled Feyre’s replicate armor onto me. Even though I’d worn them everyday this week, they still felt foreign. Like when I was young and I tried on my mother’s dress only to find it was too big for me. I was too aware of where the armor and tunic brushed over my skin like it was constantly reminding me _you are not Feyre_. I’d grown sick of the armor after my first hour wearing it. I had no desire to become Feyre; I was not the warrior she was and wearing this felt like a poor excuse for the real person. 

Though it made me realize the parts of my identity that I clung to. I was Nesta Archeron, eldest sister to Elain and Feyre. I survived the destruction of the Human Realm, Hybern’s captivity and was chosen by the Cauldron to be it’s Keeper. Books were my main source of enjoyment besides Cassian. I loved Cassian, Night Court General and Illyrian pain. When this War was over, I’d carve out my own home far away from Court dealings hopefully in the Illyrian mountains. These were the words I repeated when Feyre’s armor and the Cauldron’s leeching presence threatened to overwhelm my mind. 

“Unfortunately, that is up to the Queens to decide,” Morrigan sighed. “But Cresseida and I will be with you every step of the way.” Another _thing_ about this: Cassian would not be allowed to come. Azriel would check in with us if we stayed longer than a day but that was because he could winnow through his shadows. Cassian and his Illyrian wings were branded just as _Night Court_ as Rhysand was. I tried not to think how awful it would be if the Queens dragged out this visit. 

As I had no fond memory of Cresseida, this trip was becoming less and less tolerable. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morrigan and I left in the day for the continent. Another reason I was grateful for her. All our preparations were private and rarely mentioned beyond us two. In no way this week had she exposed me to the rest of the Court while I was dressed in Feyre’s clothing. It was too painful for anyone else to bear and I couldn’t tolerate the looks of disappointment that my sister wasn’t here any longer. She’d left a gaping hole in this family and showing me dressed as her would only make that hole larger. The longer Feyre was imprisoned and I went without visions was another day that hole grew too. 

It was near sunset when we winnowed to the continent. The time gap startled me a little in spite of Morrigan’s warning. Orange light landed on a city encased in tan brick walls and wooden buildings inside. At the center of the city was a castle with several tall towers, connected to each other by stone walkways. The main portion to the palace was domed and rather short. Prow City was surrounded on all sides by wheat fields and some short green shrubs. 

In all honesty, I expected more but I suspect that had much to do with spending the last few months in Velaris. The fae world was touched by magic and that made it prettier to the eye, deceptively so. Though I didn’t miss the smell of manure and human filth. 

Cresseida stood a few paces away. When I noticed her, her eyes were wide and mouth open as she beheld me. Her neck was strained so tight I didn’t think she was breathing. I recalled the female I’d seen back in the war camps and tried to consolidate that image with the one I currently saw. I would have to be a fool to think she wasn’t currently sensing the magic everyone claimed I leaked; I was no fool. 

I took the time to inspect her. Instead of pants like Morrigan and I, she wore a loose skirt and a breastplate, bereft of any tunic underneath. I felt better knowing I’d appear modest by human standards —

 _I was not human anymore_ , I caught and chastised myself. I shouldn’t feel so beholden to the rules of human society anymore. I might not like pants but I wouldn’t let some Queens I already didn’t like tell me the rules of decency. In the same breath, I couldn’t judge Cresseida by human senses of modesty either. My shame was replaced with a small measure of relief. I might not be completely fae or human but I was something else, something free. 

Cresseida’s stunned expression creased at her brows, lips pulling downwards. Her sea-blue eyes hardened, darkening. She took a hesitant step towards me. When Morrigan and I kept steady, she crossed the remaining distance until she was almost an arm’s breadth away. Meeting my eyes, she nodded to me curtly. “I’m sorry about Feyre.” 

My throat tightened. Her words were unexpected to say the least. I glanced towards the city. I brushed a hand down my long braid, in Feyre’s style, to smooth it before clearing my throat. “I came to get the Book and that is all,” I stepped past her and marched towards the city, feeling a little more at ease in Feyre’s armor. 

**Morrigan:**

Cresseida and I trailed behind Nesta while we approached the city. Both of us were caught in shock for entirely different reasons. In a split second, Nesta’s hesitation had been wiped clean from her face. All the fidgeting with Feyre’s armor and shifting her posture stopped instantly. Her back straightened, chin raised and she marched forward with long, determined strides that spoke of purpose. 

Cresseida’s apology having snapped something into place inside Nesta. 

Now, Nesta didn’t leak magic. She _was_ magic. All my senses were on fire from being so close to Nesta. I could hardly tear my eyes away from the shimmer on her skin and the magnetic pull she drew me in with. Only because of my training could I readily identify the raw magic she wielded so the humans would be clueless. Those familiar with magic might suspect her power but otherwise, they’d assume her incredibly alluring and if they had any instincts at all, just as dangerous. 

Lord Remus met us at the gates and he was far worse than Cresseida in his shock. Much to Nesta’s credit, she reigned in whatever savage response she had and waited for the human male to recover. In an odd turn of events, Nesta cocked her head in a gesture that was too similar to Feyre for my heart not to thud at. 

The longer Lord Remus went speechless, the longer my paranoid thoughts got the best of me. He knows Nesta is not her sister. He _knows_ somewhere deep in his human bones that the female in front of him is not even fully _fae_. Yet he stiffened and breathed out, “This way, Lady Feyre. The Queens cannot be kept waiting.” Any slightly demeaning tone he could have taken was completely wasted in light of the terror making his voice tremble. I even could smell the cold sweat breaking from his pores. “You may not enter the throne room with any weapons.” 

Cresseida glanced sideways at me, wry smile playing on her full lips. 

I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. 

Nesta only dipped her chin and replied softly, “Of course.” 

Inside the city’s walls, was a small city filled only with the ‘pleasant’ society of nobles and fine artisans. The streets were kept relatively clear as a result with only couples taking quiet strolls on the cobblestone paths. Cresseida and my presence had caused some stir, quiet whispers and quick glances to gain better looks. It was Nesta that stopped them all in their tracks. Not a single human was breathing while we passed but Nesta offered small, encouraging smiles. The longer she did so, the softer her face became until Feyre herself stood in front of me. Before my very eyes, Nesta shapeshifted into her younger sister. She adopted Feyre’s warmth and welcoming presence while losing the sharpness to her own person. In the same breadth, she walked with a saunter that might have been Feyre’s stride if not for the slight discomfort at wearing a sword. She wore Feyre’s sureness competently; she wasn’t cocky but confident. 

My heart ached. This was why I had kept Rhysand from seeing my progress with preparing Nesta. Nesta had successfully lied to the King of Hybern without any of her fae ability to aid her. Now, she was unparalleled in her ability to raise a mask so convincing that even Rhysand would be hard pressed to find a flaw in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Nesta was annoyed that the Human Queens made us wait before receiving us in the throne room, it didn’t show. Whether or not she was annoyed that Lord Remus hadn’t ceased staring at her was less hidden. While we waited the young Lord had taken to discreet glances towards Nesta which she ignored entirely, eyes flicking around the hall at the hanging artwork. I debated between wanting to see Nesta claw Lord Remus’s eyes out and wishing she would restrain herself for the sake of diplomacy. Though when I saw her fingers twitch, I did get a little excited. 

It had been another blisteringly hot day within the castle walls and the burning torches didn’t help. Even now that the sun had set far beyond the horizon, the heat was still baking us alive. Only Cresseida was comfortable looking but Nesta hadn’t started sweating like me. Her cheeks were a tad flushed and her magic shifted in the air but she might as well have been in the temperate climate of the Dawn Court for how she appeared. The humans would see a collected Lady with pretty coloring, completely oblivious to Nesta’s magic doing all the legwork. 

Cresseida’s wariness continued while Nesta’s magic was thrumming. After witnessing Cresseida relaxed, plucking oysters from the sand, I could confidently identify her caution. It started with the slight downturn to her lips and extended to her brows drawing together every so often. It was a face I had been all-too accustomed to before Cresseida had witnessed me crying. I considered heavily the distrust evident in Cresseida’s eye. I didn’t blame Nesta for Cresseida’s judgement but I wished instead the Summer Court fae would return to that easy manner she had revealed to me not but a few days ago. 

I hoped that Cresseida’s response to Nesta was entirely due to the sensation of Nesta’s magic. Raw magic was bright to the senses, like somehow all senses are being accosted but without any obvious source. It set my own heart racing but so did Nesta so I was used to that response. Cresseida was very new to this. 

_ I should have sent her back to the Summer Court _ , I bemoaned. I had no excuse for doing so but I should have figured out one. 

I straightened. I would have had to lie to Cresseida. I wanted to crush my eyes together and never open them again. I had found myself at the epicenter of a conundrum that made a headache form in the base of my skull. For Nesta’s safety and the Cauldron’s, I would’ve needed to lie but the tentative friendship I had formed with her needed my trust. My duties as Second in Command didn’t care for my friendship.

The danger was that Cresseida didn’t need to know anything about Nesta’s relation to the Cauldron. All that mattered was Nesta could obviously command raw magic to some degree and that was invaluable information.  _ Information that now will be shared between the Summer and Night Court which might as well mean the entire world now knows.  _

Cassian might kill me. Somehow, I didn’t think Nesta cared but that could have been wishful thinking. Nesta likely enjoyed her anonymity and whether or not she recognized that time had come to an end, only time could tell. 

I peeked back at Nesta. She didn’t lean on the wall in an overtly casual gesture but crossed her arms across her chest.  _ Another Feyre-like gesture.  _ I knew the sisters well enough to know Nesta wrapped her arms around her waist. If it was possible, her eyes weren’t so grey anymore. She’d softened them as well as the sharpness to her jawline and set of her lips. I marveled at her talent. 

The farce might sicken me and Nesta but it was necessary and I appreciated the determination to see it through that Nesta displayed. 

The doors swung open and a courtier strode out, obvious displeasure written across his face. After him, a page came to announce our arrival. “May I present Lord Remus, Captain to Queen Juno’s Royal Guard presents Lady Feyre along with Lady Morrigan and Lady Cresseida, Princess of Adriata of the Summer Court,” I didn’t take offense to the lack of titles following my name. All of them were related to the Night Court. Though I had thought several times of correcting them to the many titles Feyre collected but figured best not tempt fate. We couldn’t have them finding out she was  _ Lady of the Night Court _ too. 

I took a deep breath in before following Nesta into the throne room, walking besides Lord Remus. Nesta stopped before all five Queens and met all their eyes with her chin level to the floor. Lord Remus, once again forgetting himself, struggled to make the appropriate introductions in time and save face, “Lady Feyre, you are honored to meet Queen Juno, Queen Sawaged, Queen Hanyu, Queen Garnier, and our host, Queen Nuru.” 

Nesta ignored his blunder and dipped her head low in a cursory sign of respect. We had been very clear on this. Bows and curtseys were for their subjects but we couldn’t be rude. So without appearing ridiculous, Nesta was to bow her head as low as she could. 

I bit my cheek to silence another inappropriate smile as the looks of irritation flitted in varying amounts across each Queen’s face. Of course, Queen Sawaged was the most disgruntled; something about elderly humans and believing themselves to be Mother-blessed. 

“It is an honor to meet your Majesties,” Nesta’s voice floated into the dim room. Whatever their initial reactions, all were focused on Nesta. None had been prepared for the pull Nesta had over them. If I had known Nesta could elicit such a reaction, I would have begged her to just  _ ask  _ it from them. Their entranced looks assured me we would have had the Book already in hand. Though once we made away with the treasure, we no doubt would have added five new enemies to our list when they realized we robbed them blind.  _ Rhysand could’ve fixed that _ , a voice echoed inside me. “I thank you for accepting the High Lord’s offerings and recognizing the threat the King of Hybern poses not only to Prythian but to the entire world. You can rest assured we will protect the Book of Breathings and end this war before it reaches the continent.” 

Queen Juno remained quiet, still battling the cloud hovering over her mind. Queen Hanyu leaned forward in her seat.  _ She’d recovered fast _ , I suspected it had much to do with her half-fae heritage. A small fraction—a drop of blood and yet she resisted Nesta’s lure easily. “It has been a long time since we have hosted our neighbors. It makes me think we should never have stopped communication.” 

The change of topic made Cresseida frown. 

Queen Hanyu’s voice helped to shake the rest from their trance. Queen Juno scowled. “That was a protective measure, Queen Hanyu,” she replied dryly, eyes assessing Nesta’s armor. She fiddled with the silver sleeve of her long gown, no doubt uncomfortable as I was in the heat. 

I couldn’t say I blamed them for their distrust though it was exceedingly annoying. Our relations with the Human Realm, before Hybern brought down the Wall, hadn’t been evidence of our benevolence. If they wanted proof, only Velaris would have sufficed. “But it is good you understand the weight of what you ask,” she intoned. 

Nesta dipped her head again. 

Queen Nuru sat silently, an oddity as I have come to realize. I had prepared Nesta for a verbal duel with the Queen but the continuing quiet made me hope that might not happen. She was the least scared of us so maybe this was a turn for the better. She was beginning to trust us. Nesta responded to the quiet by forging forward, “I make this request with the knowledge of what the King of Hybern has done,” she said solemnly, stiffening slightly. Her voice lowered as she spoke. I hoped the Queens understood what a rare occurrence they were seeing; Nesta revealing her emotions on a private topic.

“You speak from personal experience?” Queen Juno tilted her chin, aiming her look down her nose at Nesta. 

“I do,” Nesta replied, voice just as strong but oh so quiet. There was not a fae or human alive in the room that couldn’t see Nesta’s struggle with the topic. They would see it as Feyre’s human heart making her particularly vulnerable to the fae cruelty. I recognized it as a sudden return to one of the worst nights in Nesta’s life. A succession of tragedies Nesta has witnessed since being wrenched from her home with her younger sister in tow. 

Queen Hanyu seemed to nod sympathetically. No doubt to Nesta’s ire. Queen Sawaged and Queen Garnier remained less inclined to join the conversation, seeming to barely follow the conversation. If any of them recognized the sway Nesta had over them, they were being careful not to reveal it. There were so many moving variables to this. They could recognize Nesta is not Feyre by some outside source. They could find out Feyre has been dishonest about her ties to the Courts. Or, and what I dreaded most, they could choose to shun us now even after coming

“The question still remains,” Queen Nuru came to life. Her voice was loud like she was trying to rouse herself along with everyone else in the throne room. Hesitantly, a few people tore their focus from Nesta to look to the Queen of Prow City. Her eyes flared with silent challenge and Nesta bore it well, straightening but maintaining the facade of deference. “How will we know to trust you?” 

Nesta nodded her chin, breathing in deeply. Another wave of brightness overwhelmed my senses and all heads reflexively leaned towards Nesta. Her voice was honey, “Your Majesties have trusted me throughout this journey. Responding to my letter for aid, inviting me to your city, and now hosting me and my Ladies,” Nesta sighed, losing some of that ethereal grace. “I can only hope that we have demonstrated ourselves to be worthy of your trust. Our goals are one and the same. You wish to protect your people and we only wish to do the same.” 

Silence descended as the audience grappled with the influx of emotions and thoughts circling the air. My ears were assaulted by the thudding hearts of everyone around us, including Cresseida and myself. Nesta stood as fae before these queens because I had failed her too. 

Cresseida had lost her home, Adriata, in the first attack Hybern launched to kickoff his war. Her eyes were trained, unseeing, on Nesta’s back. They were glossy which made them more like the tidepools that collected at shorelines. It had been easy to forget who had been struck first by Hybern, whose army and people were slaughtered and hunted down like animals afterwards. I threaded my fingers through Cresseida’s, squeezing softly but keeping my eyes ahead. To my pleasure and relief, she squeezed back. 

“Protect my people, I must,” Queen Nuru nodded, chin dipping and lips thinning. Her face curiously devoid of emotion. “Which is why I must deny you the Book until you can explain why you have hidden your connection to the Night Court.” The spell was broken. Whispers began but Queen Nuru kept speaking, my previous admiration for the strong-willed Queen wiped away along with all my hope. The four remaining Queens eyes were bulging, obviously this was a secret even amongst them. “My spies have told me that you are the Lady of the Night Court and not only it’s Lady but  _ mates _ with the High Lord.” The word was poison in her mouth. It spat on mates and fae alike. “Do you deny it?” 

Nesta didn’t glance around. She kept her gaze ahead, though not entirely looking at any one Queen in particular. Lord Remus inspected her harsher given Queen Nuru’s revelation. Nesta raised her chin, preparing to speak, “I do not deny it.” The gasps that assaulted my ears traveled directly to my stomach. I might have vomited if Cresseida hadn’t tugged sharply on my hand, reminding me to keep impassive. We were not guilty. Nesta licked her lips, stopping Queen Nuru’s acidic words in her mouth, “But I am not ashamed. I acted on behalf of all High Lords in all our dealings.” 

“How can we trust you now that we know you are...mates with a High Lord?” Queen Sawaged spat, voice struggling with the very word. “How can we even trust that this High Lord will be so different?” 

Nesta swallowed. “Your Majesties will have to ask him yourself.” 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can almost guaruntee this chapter doesn't go anywhere you think it will (because I had no idea it'd go there either, surprise surprise)

**Nesta:**

I smelled the anxiety pouring off each human and even from Morrigan and Cresseida, standing just behind me. The room was roaring with a thousand thunderous hearts, smelling of sweat and nervousness. People shifted as if they might flee. All but Queen Nuru, who sat frozen in her seat while her muscles trembled and lips twitched. Her brows furrowed together and she pressed her lips tighter just before rising from her seat to shout at me, “You  _ will  _ not summon a High Lord into my home, mate or not. You’ve proven your dishonesty as any fae would,” she lifted her chin in haughty condemnation and I felt my own heart beginning to echo the room’s sentiment. 

A part of me felt the downward tug on my stomach while the rest of me began to float away while my magic swirled inside me. I kept it bottled tight. Lucien had said no displays of magic. I used that thread of control inside me to keep my magic from spilling out. My ears told me I had already somehow failed by the sound of glass cracking in the room. 

“We will not give you the Book of Breathings,” she declared, glaring down her nose at me. Her nostrils were flared and she huffed in a way that reminded me of a horse, lips brushing against each other.

“You would rather die?” I asked, refusing to follow the train of thoughts that told me it was a lost cause.  _ This Queen would rather fall into her own grave then give you anything,  _ the voices inside me whispered.  _ She thinks herself powerful _ . The Cauldron had a way of making thoughts appear unbidden in my mind.  _ She’d condemn you and your family to death if you do not do something _ . 

I followed Amren’s training to keep all my magic in check. Though my muscles burned from the tension, I imagined myself like a book. Every word in the universe was written on the pages in between and yet my hands continually pressed the covers together until all the words were shut in. Over and over until the book could be shelved and ignored. It had potential but today was not that day to see it fulfilled. 

“You dare threaten us?” Queen Sawaged’s crone voice rose, cracking. Her gnarled fingers grabbed at her armrest like it was my neck. 

“No,” I spoke low, breathing as calm as I dared. I was not the fae they wanted me to be. I was not Hybern and I would not be goaded into violence. Even though I wanted to dismantle the castle by hand if need be. “A threat implies I wish to do you harm. The King of Hybern has made no such promise and will bring this war to you next.”

“We will fight that  _ evil _ when it comes,” Queen Juno declared. 

I swallowed, blowing out another slow and measured breath. “Perhaps you will survive initially,” I nodded. “But eventually, Hybern’s fae army will overpower you and you will watch your people die. Some will have quick, clean deaths and the rest will be subjected to the creative mechanisms that the King of Hybern encourages. Humans only won the War because they allied with the fae against those who would do them harm. Without that, you are too weak.” 

Queen Nuru snorted softly, leaning back against her chair and shaking her head. “We have ash and iron aplenty,” her knowing smile told me that her threat was closer to us than we thought. It was Queen Hanyu whose brows furrowed at the other Queen’s declaration; obviously her half-fae lineage had taught her enough to know ash was deadly but iron was useless against the fae. Queen Garnier frowned at the admission. 

I took the slight gestures of dissent between the Queens and pried at it, hoping to drive that wedge deeper. “And will you fight united or separate?” Queen Nuru went to open her mouth but I’d already seen the lights flickering in the rest of the Queen’s eyes.  _ They weren’t sure _ . I interrupted the Queen and forged on, “It will not matter as you will all die together. The fact remains that the fae are stronger than humans. Any of the seven High Lords could have forced their way into your court to take the Book of Breathings but they chose not to. I chose to wait as well, to form an alliance with you even as…” I gulped, eyes darting, “Even as sacrifices were made every day we waited.” 

I’d long lost sight of the Queens. I could see wooden bars to form a cage and hundreds of soldiers, pressed against one another in anticipation of watching Lucien’s whipping. The smell of our fear made real by urine, sweat and mud. Iron was bitter in my mouth. The soldier’s jeers increased when the skin was flayed from the bone and his legs gave out underneath him. They only lost interest when he had ceased reacting, mind crumbling from the pain.

But they found the humans to be just as interesting a diversion. Watching our bodies pulled from the Cauldron, frail and sick, before being tossed away like a burned loaf of bread. How everyone who entered always emerged with the same looks of terror etched permanently into their paper-thin skin, mouths opened in silent screams. Their eyes had been bled of all color and I was absolutely sure their souls had been stolen directly from them. In fact, I knew it. 

“If you were so bent on making us trust you, then why did you lie?” it was Queen Garnier who spoke finally. Her voice was the softest out of all the Queens but not kind. There was an edge in it that my ‘betrayal’ no doubt had elicited. 

I swallowed all the honest words I wanted to shout. Starting with  _ you’d have to ask my sister but you can’t because she's  _ gone _.  _ The longer we spoke, the more it seemed she would stay that way. My tongue was heavy. I didn’t want to keep speaking. I wanted to strangle some sense into these Queens but I kept my hands still. I would do this how Feyre wanted it to be done. I sighed. “Because I want this alliance to succeed and I misjudged the depths of your prejudice,” the lie came off choked, thanks to my sorrow, so it seemed like the truth. Each of the Queens were placated by benevolence. “Please do not prove that I was justified by denying us now.” 

**Cassian:**

I’ve never fidgeted in my life but I was beginning to see the appeal just when Morrigan winnowed in. I was relieved until I saw that she was alone. I launched from the living room to the foyer, vaulting over the settee and causing every single one of Azriel’s carefully laid out papers to scatter. “Where’s Nesta?” I demanded, using all my considerable height to tower over her. All I could stare at was the beads of sweat dripping down her temples, matting her hair to her forehead.  _ What has happened.  _

“Oh relax,” she brushed past me to where Azriel and Rhysand were camped. 

“Then why isn’t she with you? Where is she?” I asked, not willing to be discouraged though I did relax slightly. I told myself all while she was gone that if something was wrong, I’d know. No matter where in the world I was I would always know when Nesta needed something. I didn’t need the mating bond to know. I’d just follow the smoke trails in the sky. 

“That is a good question. Why did you leave Nesta  _ alone  _ on the continent?” Rhysand joined me in glaring. He’d become very paranoid about Elain and Nesta’s whereabouts. He’d made Azriel confirm Lucien and Elain made it safely to the Day Court. The moment Nesta had left with Mor, he’d asked Azriel to check on them as well. He said both times he’d do it himself but neither Azriel or I were so stupid as to let him out of our sight. As Spymaster, it was a part of Azriel’s duty to protect the interests of the Night Court and Nesta and Elain were considered as such. However, it was  _ not  _ a part of Rhysand’s duty to let his instincts run amok. 

I debated which of us should tell him that like Feyre had accidentally adopted Lucien into her family, he had done the same. With centuries behind him, I was surprised he hadn’t already recognized the signs.  _ I think Feyre would be pleased.  _

“She’s with Cresseida and I’m returning in a minute. I came to drag you along,” Mor blew out a breath, sounding tired. Her hair frizzled around her. I knew if I could detect her dishevelment, Mor was all too aware and already irritated about it herself. 

“He really shouldn’t go anywhere,” Az shook his head, kneeling over his papers and furiously stacking them. He looked to me to support but that was futile. I could only think of how often I could interject on behalf of Nesta before everyone lost patience with me. 

I kept opening and closing my hands to give them something to do. At this hour, they’d normally be holding onto Nesta but now they were just empty. I should have taken Az on his offer to spar tonight but I resisted in favor of babysitting Rhysand. 

Rhysand squinted at Azriel. “I’m not a cat you keep housebound. I am your High Lord,” he pursed his lips. These were the subtle and slow signs that Rhysand’s instincts hadn’t completely hijacked his mind. The jokes and sarcasm were good. 

“No,” Az shook his head. “You’re more like a racoon, gnawing off it’s own leg in futile attempts to escape. Why does he need to go to the continent?” Az turned back to Mor before Rhys’s glare could freeze him to his core. Az shrugged off the hole Rhys’s eyes made in his back. 

Mor’s smile tightened and she clasped her hands together, knuckles going white while she pivoted to Rhysand. “Because you’ve been invited for dinner.” 

Rhysand’s face fell expressionless. 

“The point was for the Queens to think Feyre had no favoritism,” I interrupted. 

“It turns out they have  _ some  _ intelligence on Prythian and found it out.” Az stiffened at Mor’s declaration, obviously offended they had found out something he had never wanted them to know. He couldn’t control all the information but he certainly tried. 

“And they are ingratiated by our deception and have invited me for dinner?” Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, leaning back into the settee to cross his arms over his chest. I wondered how Nesta managed to turn their minds. 

“Stop joking,” Mor snapped, the air in the room going still while it crackled with her magic. She stood over Rhysand with her hands closed in fists at her side, lips thinned by her impatience. “Nesta is the only reason all of Feyre’s work hasn’t gone to utter shit. You will put on your best tunic and you  _ will  _ ingratiate yourselves to the Queens.” 

Rhys’s eyes hardened but he nodded. All of us heard the hard swallow he took as he rose to his feet. “I’ll go upstairs and change—” 

“Dinner is tomorrow night.” 

“Then why didn’t Nesta come back with you?” I asked. Mor only gave me a slightly guilty look. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nesta was sitting far away from Cresseida when Mor and I winnowed to the continent. I’d barely given my friend a choice. I’d accept no alternatives. Maybe another night I would have been more agreeable but that wasn’t tonight. Something deep itched at me that I needed to go to her and I couldn’t help but feel like smoke was starting to rise on the horizon, I’d just yet to spot it. 

She was dressed in Summer Court wear. Likely Cresseida’s from the long skirt and loose flowing tunic shirt all in royal blue and silver embroidery. Cresseida stood watch not too far away while Nesta sat in the sand at the ocean shore. I dismissed all senses other than the ones focused on Nesta. She smelled like wine and magic which under any other circumstances would have been intoxicating but tonight felt like loneliness. Thankfully, Mor guided Cresseida away until it was just Nesta and I. 

Nesta glanced up at me, “You shouldn’t be here,” she sighed. “Your wings are a big giveaway-” 

“And what would I be giving away?” I sat in the sand next to her. It was still warm from the day’s heat but Nesta felt icy next to me. “That I am not human?” I flashed a cocky smile that bore the smallest evidence of mirth in Nesta’s eyes. 

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. They hate us anyway, all five of them,” she sighed, breath causing her stray hairs to flutter away on the curiously still night. 

“And why should you care?” 

She sat rigidly in the sand but at my question, she bowed her head. “Because I wanted to give them a real reason to hate us,” she admitted quietly. “It would have been easy too. They would have known and seen for themselves how powerless they are. They were so stubborn. They thought or believed in some deluded world they could win,” her voice was dying out while it gave over to emotion. In the barest of rasps, she added, “When all they would have succeeded in was making a larger pile of bodies.” 

“Nes,” I began but she shook her head. 

“I have a pile of bodies inside me.”

“What?” 

She looked up at me, eyes watery. “Everyone the Cauldron ever killed and I wanted to unleash  _ that  _ today,” she spat. 

I pushed past the initial shock with the distance I used for searching a battlefield for my fallen friends. Accept the grim reality and forge on. “And you did not.” She laughed coldly, about to speak but I was quicker. “You think that the line between your inaction and their deaths is so thin, that if you think on it too hard you might actually come to, realizing you killed all those people.” I nodded to myself. I needed to say it. “But that line is actually a wall and it is stronger than you believe. For some, it is isn’t so strong. For me it wasn’t. When I was still training, I killed a few Illyrians because I didn’t hold back my own magic. It wasn’t because I didn’t know how. I believed that if they were stronger...truly deserving then they would have survived. It would have taken no effort at all to keep my magic from escaping but I didn’t try to tether it,” I leaned my head on my knees. “I didn’t try and they died and I didn’t care.” 

Nesta wasn’t moving next to me. She’d said she had a viciousness inside her. She’d convinced herself that everything was darker within her and little had she known it wasn’t within her, it was next to her. It was sleeping with her, holding her and telling her that  _ it would be alright.  _

“What changed that?” Nesta asked, voice so carefully still I couldn’t tell what she thought of me. I wondered if this would be the moment I regret most. I didn’t feel the pang of regret, just the grim understanding that I’d wrought this upon myself. 

“Rhysand,” I intoned. “He came into training and used  _ his _ magic to beat me so bloody that I finally understood what I had done. I felt all those boy’s terror and I knew I was a killer.” I’d heard that some people see the faces of the people they killed. They go to sleep with their victims behind their eyelids and wake up hearing the last words they spoke. I had been too assured and confident that I didn’t remember all the ones I’d killed. The blessing I wasn’t haunted by my victim’s was overshadowed by the knowledge it was because the number was too many. “Your decision to contain your magic was stronger than you think. Lesser people would have let it go, wanting to prove themselves bigger.” 

We sat in silence until I was convinced the ocean would be my company for the rest of the night. Oddly, I wasn’t nervous. I’d lost the female I had loved and all I could think was what  _ blissful relief  _ that I hadn’t destroyed her too. Like some pressure had been lifted that I couldn’t hurt her anymore. Though Nesta didn’t leave me, she did rest her head on my shoulder like she could finally rest. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so last chapter i broke my heart and now i'm taping it back together again
> 
> wise enough - lamb

**Elain:**

In the darkest hours of the night, I woke from another vision. It was my most dreaded sensation. I preferred to sleep soundlessly without interruption and wake in the dawn light, golden and inviting. I could be lulled by the knowledge the day was unknown and that sense that I could do anything I wished. A million paths were at my disposal for how the day would play out. 

But tonight was another night where a vision had done me the extreme discourtesy of shaking me from my sleep. Lucien’s arm tightened at my waist as he subconsciously felt the flickering of my magic. The more my visions happened, the less sensitive he became to their passing which was just as well. He’d sleep some more. My mind, however, was a mess of jumbled thoughts that I needed time to sort through. Time and a good stroll. 

I hesitated to leave Lucien’s side but tonight I wanted to walk. I wanted to feel the cool air on my skin, the discomfort of a mild winter, and have my thoughts clear so I could return to our bed with an equally sorted mind. I never liked strolling alone but something changed here and so I allowed it. 

Slipping a leg from the bed, my mate woke the moment I was out of contact with him. Those uncannily bright eyes shimmered in the dark. He watched me. No moonlight touched us but his eyes were enough to cast a soft glow in the room. It was just enough to cast his hair in a deep red. I could hear his heart beating in sync with mine. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice hoarse from sleep but melodic. Soothing enough I considered crawling back into his arms and leaving my troubles for the light of day. 

But I had the nagging suspicion I wouldn’t be falling back asleep. “Yes,” I tucked a stray hair behind his tipped ear. “I wanted to walk a bit.” 

He nodded, having done so many nights himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, flipping onto his back. “If you aren’t back before dawn, I’ll come for you,” the words slipped out lovingly instead of threateningly. I smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. I felt the comfort of them pool in my stomach like hot tea, sweetened to perfection. No matter where I went, he would follow. 

“I do not plan to stay away that long,” I whispered but Lucien had already drifted back to sleep. I tugged a nightgown over my head and then a heavier robe for the outside. The Day Court had indoor slippers or sandals but I wasn’t planning to stay indoors. Carrying two sets of shoes seemed excessive so I did away with both and walked barefoot from our chambers. 

The halls were quiet. During the day, they rustled. From the book's pages flipped through or the shuffle of servant’s feet, the palace was alive in a quiet way. All inhabitants were asleep at night. No candlelight or torchlights were kept lit unless company was expected; Lucien and I arriving all those weeks ago in the middle of the night must have been a stir for the servants. 

Though I had no desire to stay awake at night, I could see the appeal it had for Feyre. The world was asleep and with me to watch over it. 

I padded soundlessly like a mouse through the palace, descending wide staircases many levels until I reached the garden level. Helion’s home, from what I had seen, was six levels and all the hallways ran in very large arcs like intersecting circles. Each floor was smaller than the one below which must have been a purposeful design so every floor could have glass ceilings, letting the sunlight pour in along with the fresh air. At the intersections were the staircases that defied gravity as they spiraled downward. 

I reached the bottom floor, greeted by the open doorways with flowing long white curtains. None of the glass doors had been shut so the border between palace tile and garden grass was non-existent. My toes curled at the edge. It was colder than I anticipated but I forged ahead, sucking in slightly when grass greeted my feet. 

It wasn’t comfortable like the heat of my mate’s arms and the expanse of white linen we slept in but then again, it wasn’t supposed to be. It woke me up. I was aware. I recalled my visions with clarity that I wished wasn’t necessary. 

We spent the mornings teaching me about the Courts in a manner I was completely foreign to. I expected Lucien to dig through every book and tome available to give me the full histories of Prythian. Instead, I’d been led through the wardrobes of all seven Courts by several Day Court tailors. They modeled the fashion and told me of their design. According to the tailors, the Day Court’s revealing fashion stemmed from a core belief that magical strength was drawn from the sunlight. The more skin exposed, the stronger the magic. 

I couldn’t help but pick at the sleeves of my long-sleeved gown, as modest as a dress could get within the Court. At my fidgeting, one tailor had launched into an explanation that a scholar who lived under Helion’s father disproved this theory but the fashion persisted stubbornly.

The next day, I toured the third level where art from the remaining six Courts was hung. Two architects showed me the residing homes of the High Lords. I’d recognized Adriata and a few others, the Spring Court Manor, for instance. It was the Night Court’s palace I’d almost stumbled at. A painting of a dark, glittering mountain topped by snow with a depthless black entrance. 

“Yes, Bolivar really did capture the likeness. Smuggled the painting out before the High Lord could reclaim it,” the senior architect, Gilad, intoned solemnly. 

“Smuggle?” I had questioned. 

“The Night Court is notoriously private, child,” he had nodded, eyes squeezing shut. I didn’t take offense. The fae had snow white hair. They might not know how old I was but it was safe to assume  _ quite a bit younger _ . “Yes, Bolivar disappeared afterwards.” 

No further explanation was offered but I felt unsettled. I didn’t recognize the mountain range and I’d like to think I could after spending so long staring at those mountains from within Velaris. I didn’t question the castle lest they knew where I’d spent the majority of my time away. It would look suspicious to question what the Night Court’s seat of power looked if I’d supposedly just arrived from it a few days prior. 

All my lessons had followed the same practical accord. It didn’t matter to my visions if I could name the High Lords in order of succession. Or the bloody battles, long listed as they are. What was important was identifying my visions and drawing the key pieces of information. The only part of my studies that required me to read through books were those carrying knowledge on the island of Hybern. 

Amarantha had destroyed anything pertaining to Hybern, the art and books, during her reign. What remained was what had been smuggled or hidden and that summed to three books. 

According to one of the librarians, that was even fewer than the Night Court which should have shocked me but didn’t. 

As the new knowledge settled inside me, my visions came to me clearer. Less disorienting to wake up in a different location when I could recognize the foliage to belong to the Spring Court. When I tried to smell the air and noticed the hints of sulfur and ash, I knew I was back on Hybern. It was strange how calming just knowing where my visions took me was. I witnessed many obscene acts and yet, was more grounded knowing where my feet stood. When I came back to the present, all the contents of my visions could be left behind in that far off land. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn’t alone in the gardens. The High Lord of the Day Court also woke in the night apparently. He hadn’t been far off since I’d started my studies. He left for the occasional meeting but normally returned to the palace right after, checking in with Lucien and I as he came and went. Just like with Lucien, there was no startling the High Lord. When I turned around a bend in the bushes, his golden eyes were already pinning me in place. He appeared blurry in the moonlight where Rhysand usually looked a little too clear cut under the full sun. He watched me approach silently. 

“I knew I had company out here,” he jested with a wry smile. His eyes didn’t gleam like they did when he was particularly proud of a joke. He stood before a bay of chrysanthemums, brilliant orange, gold and yellow even in the winter.

“Do you not sleep during the night?” I asked. 

“Of course,” he laughed though it was quiet in respect for the peace. “But I am older. I do not need it as much,” he shrugged. His eyes refocused on me as I came nearer and squinted them, “You’re awfully young. You should have stayed asleep. Undoubtedly Lucien is wondering where you went off to.” He speculated to himself, frowning. 

“Lucien knows where I am,” I replied, almost defensive. I reached through the bond to feel Lucien’s peace. He was still sleeping and definitely not worrying over my midnight stroll. 

His eyes illuminated, a smile crossing his face. “Yes, mates,” he nodded like that set everything right in his mind. Still his mirth faded back into a quiet sadness and he stared at the chrysanthemums. “Though I think your training still requires adequate rest.” 

I was fairly amused by his attempts to shoo me back to bed. My father wasn’t much of a parent and had never attempted such parently notions. Nesta was more prone to staying up throughout the night reading than I was. Feyre was almost nocturnal with Rhysand. I wondered if she was awake now, feeling the isolation of the night when not sharing it with her mate. I banished that thought abruptly before it could lead me down a path of dangerous thoughts. 

“Do you stay close for Lucien’s benefit?” I asked, ignoring his nudges. 

His head turned to me slowly. “Stay close?” he repeated. 

“You’re staying here more and rarely return to the war camps. Is that because you want to stay nearer to Lucien?” On the occasions Helion checked in with us, Lucien had not invited him to stay. He was focused on my training and would reserve his questions for our dinners shared. I couldn’t help but wonder how Helion felt about this and the distance Lucien insisted sit between them. More than a few times, Lucien had sighed after Helion was long gone and I could feel his mutual sadness. 

He smiled sadly. “I think if I were attempting to regain Lucien’s faith in me, it would not be by crowding him.” 

I couldn’t help but smile in kind. “No. You wouldn’t.” Since Lucien had plucked Nesta and I from our home, he had been comfortable alone. He didn’t need to work within a team. Even after Tamlin’s dismissal, he was resolute in his beliefs. Like a rock unmoved by the tides, he was steadfast. Helion attempting to coddle him would have been amusing but futile. I, however, enjoyed clinging to Lucien and all my senses told me Lucien only grew happier. “So why do you stay here? Rhysand has not returned to the front to my knowledge.” 

He narrowed his eyes, golden orbs reducing to small stars. “Are you implying I am scared of Rhysand?” 

“Are you?” I asked before I could form a better way to phrase the question. My eyes widened at the bluntness in my words but I recovered as best I could, raising my chin like I imagined Nesta would. 

He saw my shock and he smiled. “No, though I admit I do not like being at odds with the High Lord. It took awhile for the Day and Night Court to form this open relationship. Largely around the time we stopped attempting to steal Night Court secrets,” he admitted with a shrug. I imagined when he said  _ awhile  _ he meant centuries. 

“Steal?” 

He laughed. “What other purpose is there for ward-cleaving magic?” he waggled his eyebrows, suggesting his youth had been spent as a thief instead of a High Lord’s heir. “We are admittedly very good at taking without permission.” 

I pushed past the desire to ask him for a story. “Rhysand does not hold it against you.” 

Helion started. “Now, Elain—” 

“I know this. He said he does not fault me and therefore, he doesn’t fault you either.”

“Elain, you are a young Seer. I am—”

“He doesn’t. He’d tell you so himself if he were here.” I didn’t know what gave me the capacity to speak so familiarly about Rhysand but I didn’t doubt the truth in my words. It was right. It felt so to speak thus to Helion. He needed to hear this from me and an urgency inside me told me I had to say so  _ now.  _

Helion thought quietly to himself, eyes falling back to the flower bed, before he asked, “Do you make it a habit to interrupt Rhysand too or is it just me?” 

I flushed darkly, realizing how overly bold I had grown in the short conversation. Helion had my best interests at heart, of this I had no doubt, but that didn’t guarantee or encourage any casualness.  _ Lucien _ , I cursed silently. Lucien flaunted his lack of respect for the High Lord’s seat so flagrantly that I’d somehow adopted the same. 

He laughed louder this time. “I have no doubt Rhysand enjoys being challenged if Feyre is any indication,” he paused at the slip of her name, peering at me. I kept my face neutral. I’d practiced enough to know I could succeed most of the time. Visions of my sisters were ever changing, more so than anyone else’s. Almost as if everyday was a teacup, balanced precariously on the edge of a table, and each day we waited to see if it would fall and shatter. Hundreds of ways the teacup could fall and an equal number of ways it could be caught before it broke. In this way, my visions of my sisters haunted me for the ones I recalled more clearly were those that ended in a thousand broken pieces. 

While the breeze blew tendrils of my hair back and Helion regarded me, a shiver washed over me. The teacup was not saved by itself. If I did nothing, the cup would shatter regardless. I needed to start reaching out and preparing to catch it. One plan was not enough. I’d have to use all my visions to create multiple plans and hope one of them succeeded. 

“Do you have paper?” I asked, looking back to Helion’s bewildered expression. He raised his brows but gestured back to the palace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My hands were ink stained. I was not as skilled as Lucien was at making my own riddles so it took many tries. I worked till the sky lightened with the threat of the coming dawn. Then, I’d hurriedly collected all my papers into my arms before taking off down the hallway. My grass-stained feet smacking loudly on the tile while I tried to beat my mate’s waking. Luck was with me. I slipped into the room unnoticed and set down all my letters with the barest rustling noise created. 

Though I hadn’t slept more than a few hours, my blood was alive. Purpose and clarity were wonderful things. I strode to the bed in a few graceful steps. The room smelled of my mate. Sweet fig. Pear and cinnamon. Scents soothing and heady when combined with the lull of sleep. Lucien had one arm draped over his face. His bare chest rose and fell in even measures. He was cast in the soft blue light of pre-dawn. I untied my cloak and pulled my nightgown back over my head. They fell to the floor with a quiet sigh. His ears flicked and before he had the chance to wake, I eased myself onto him. I straddled his waist through the red duvet and felt his muscles tighten as he woke. His hand came up to rest on my thigh as if he was preparing for my sudden arrival all along. 

When I leaned down to kiss him, his other hand greeted my cheek and pulled me to his lips. I sighed contentedly against his lips when he tilted his jaw upwards to press them more insistently against mine.

He whispered my name, calling me to him. Our warm breaths collided and fluttered over my cheeks. He gripped my thigh tighter, tugging me closer. I moaned lowly. His touch skimmed my bare back, exploring the expanse of skin he was just recognizing was reachable. The scent of our combined desire coated the room, blocking out even the chill breeze from the open window.

My hands pressed to his shoulders. His warmth leached into them and my ink wiped away onto his bronze skin. Though he could undoubtedly smell my pleasure, his hand went to my core where he slipped a finger between my slit. I was wet and there was no resistance. He entered me till his hand blocked further movement. I bit his lower lip, squeezing my eyes shut. We both groaned at the sensation. He moved his finger inside me in slow, undulating movements that caused my back to shiver and twist. I tried to assauge the building pressure between my thighs by rubbing them against one another. Nothing I did was helping. Tension made them shake. I'd come apart, unravel like a spool of thread, if he continued.

He withdrew suddenly, raising from the bed and both hands going to my waist. He flipped me over to my back. He twisted the covers till I was beneath him and his hips nestled between my thighs. Puffs of our combined scent rose from the sheets. My hair fanned out behind me in a tousled mess. His hair caught the light that was slowly bleeding gold and glittered. His lips were insistent at my neck. My hands skirted over the sensitive skin on his back. I gasped when he pressed his cock between my lips, rocking himself into me in testing motions. His hands felt at my breasts, thumb rolling over my nipple until my back was arched and soft mewls sprang from my lips. His eyes traced the curve of my body before coming back to meet mine, watching my reaction with the same interest he saved for his books. 

He moved into me slowly, filling me at his leisure while he watched my lips open in a gasp. My cheeks darkened. My eyelids fluttered. He shifted. I moaned. I loosely held strands of his hair; my grip tightened the further he went. His hand cupped my thigh, curling my hips to fit against his and allow him to slip fully inside. He cursed lowly again and I breathed out with a smile flitting over my features. “I love you,” he nodded, hips moving against mine in drawn out thrusts that saw his entire length sheathed inside my core. I crossed my ankles around him, pressing him closer so he could never part. 

His pace quickened to match my need, feeling my pleasure and giving himself over to it’s fulfillment. My mind focused on where our skin slid against each other. His member that spread and filled me, laying me bare before him. My nails dug into his scalp and he hissed in pleasure, thrusting harder, only encouraged by my moans. I flexed my thigh muscles to anchor me to him. Liquid dripped from me. His hand threaded through my hair, bending my head back to expose my neck to him. I came to his lips pressed to the base of my throat, all my nerves tingling uncontrollably. He followed me right after, hips losing their pace in a frantic search for completion that ended with curses and prayers spoken against my skin. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter has been updated  
> and you guys with your comments make me feel so good about the chapters i feel the w.o.r.s.t. about (i.e. this one)

**Rhysand:**

I could feel my instincts clamouring inside me. They were obnoxious and interrupted all my thoughts. I knew my family was worried for my mental state because they thought it would lead me to drastic actions. Though I didn’t want to clarify that given the chaos of my mind, all drastic actions I committed would have the same coordination as a drunk bird. The only real risk I posed was to myself and I suppose that made their concerns valid to some degree. 

Whatever the case inside my own body, I thought them relatively tamed. Yes, I had panicked when Nesta and Elain wanted to leave the safety of Velaris. Even Lucien winnowing away caused my heart to stop for a minute. 

In comparison to Cassian, I was the most controlled and collected male to ever walk the planet. He’d cajoled Mor into winnowing him with her back to the continent to see Nesta and then promptly _refused_ to return until Nesta was coming with him. I hadn’t realized the problem laying in wait last night. By the time I arrived for dinner, the issue was visible even to the blind. 

Cassian needed to be hidden by the time dawn arrived which necessitated him staying in the human apartments. The Queens had approved all fae who entered their court and even landed on their continent. The Queens had _definitely not_ approved the General of Night Court forces to take up residence in the merchant district. If they had prejudices against the fae, then the Illyrians could only expect worse treatment. Fae were dazzling to humans unpracticed in meeting with them. The fae could rely on charm and beauty to keep human fear at bay. Illyrians, born and bred warriors, whose culture centered on violence and possession would have no such luck. 

Cassian, a rarity among Illyrians, would suffer worse. There was not an Illyrian trait he did not only possess but in excess: the height, broad shoulders, musculature and wings to block out sunlight. If that was not enough, he bore seven siphons gleaming bloodred as obvious reminders as to their purpose. Then of course, as I had come to recently learn and _appreciate_ , he possessed all the personality traits of a true Illyrian too. Stubborn arrogance matched only by his foolhardiness. 

The last piece of kindling to Cassian’s pyre was that his face usually fell into a taunting grin that amused me but would incense anyone else. Apparently not Nesta though. 

All these factors made hiding Cassian a top priority if we didn’t truly wish to make enemies out of all five Human Queens. So Cassian was hidden in the rooms gifted to Mor, Cresseida and Nesta while they were in residence. In an uncharacteristically considerate manner, two rooms were allotted for their stay and they were adjacent each other. I thought this would ensure no issues would arise. Nesta and Cassian in one. Mor and Cresseida in the other. Apparently, Cresseida’s loathing for my General was strong enough to permeate the clay wall separating the bedrooms. 

I winnowed into bickering. Azriel stood behind me, peering over my shoulder to better view the scene. The room was faded and tan, with wooden furniture that included a slim bed, cabinets and a desk. The floor was gritty beneath my boots, scraping with sand. It smelled prominently of dust and the scents of my family, along with Cresseida’s unique scent of something vaguely lemon. 

“If they are limbs then control them,” Cresseida hissed, face darkened from her effort. Her stance was wide like she was ready to grapple with Cassian. Instead, she pointed her finger at Cassian and wagged it. “You should not be here.” The ice in her voice could have competed with Kallias’s magic. 

“I go where I please and I already told you, it was an _accident_ ,” Cassian snapped back, faint blush on his cheeks when Az and I appeared. All his hair hung about his face in disarray. Some strands blew about from his huffing. Mor and Nesta were curiously absent. The accident in question, I suspected, was the suspiciously broken glass window. I had no doubt as to how it happened. Cassian’s wing meets window was an obvious explanation. I had yet to see whether Cresseida pissed him off or Cass had spastically flexed his wing, thick skulled as he can be.

At our arrival, Cresseida stepped back and thumbed her fingers into her sword belt. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. The Princess of Adriata was restored. “High Lord,” she dipped her head to me, eyes flashing with silent ire but tone respectful. I was aware Mor had worked with Cresseida in the past but I didn’t have the same experience to draw from. My recent excursion with the Summer Court Princess hadn’t given me time to really inspect her, concern with my mate’s kidnapping overriding my interest in alliances. At the dinner with the Summer Court Feyre and I attended, my attention had rested firmly in planning the mission to Adriata and debating Tarquin’s intentions. Tarquin’s loyalty to the war was beyond reproach. It was Tarquin’s lingering eye on my mate that had me debating how stupid the High Lord was. 

Now, though, it seemed silly. 

My attention returning to Cresseida and Cassian, I sighed. “We’ll fix it before it can be noted.” I turned to Cassian and let my eyes go cold. “Refrain from breaking anything else.” He pursed his lips and matched Cresseida’s stiff posture, nodding curtly. “Where are Mor and Nesta?” 

“Queen Hanyu offered Nesta a dress for tonight’s dinner. Morrigan is escorting her,” Cresseida replied stiffly. I’d never get over the formal use of Mor’s name. Nesta and Elain used it but even Nesta’s words laced with steel were warmer than Cresseida’s at present. At her reply, I glanced to Azriel to go and check on the pair. He was hesitant to leave me but with Cassian watching, he disappeared from sight. Cresseida barely glanced at the Shadowsinger’s departure, more comfortable than I would have guessed. 

“Are we to have any more issues tonight?” I asked when both remained stubbornly quiet. _Cassian wrecks one building and Cresseida is ready to hang him by his toes even now._ I could feel the headache building. 

“No,” Cassian ground out, glaring daggers at Cresseida. I believed that it was only Nesta and I attending the dinner tonight which made me pray for Mor. I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned against a cabinet, determined to keep the room silent before the ache in my temples made me do things I would regret later. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another courtesy I hadn’t expected was Queen Hanyu offering to dress Nesta. I worried that the Queen might have taken the opportunity to embarrass Nesta and dress her in something that would cause a stir. Even with that concern, I didn’t entertain it long. If that were the case, I doubt Nesta wouldn’t find an appropriate response. She reminded me of Azriel in the sly way she waited for openings, chinks in the armor. 

Luckily, that was not the case. Nesta appeared with Mor at her side in a loose robe spun from silver thread with red flower blossoms falling from the shoulder. It was long enough that she picked it up to walk but cut off at her elbows. The opening of the robe was held together by a blue and yellow length of cloth that wrapped several times about her waist. The fabric shimmered in candlelight while she moved. Her darker hair was bound in a long braid that fell down her spine as Feyre would have worn it. I saw why Mor had helped to create Nesta in Feyre’s image using my mate’s armor but I wished in this instance that we could drop the facade. 

Nesta was not my mate. Knowing I’d have to pretend she was all night made my chest tighten uncomfortably. Nesta would finish the night and store it as an uncomfortable memory. She’d return, find Cassian and be done with this charade. I’d return to an empty bed with a bone-deep ache in my body. 

I admired Nesta’s commitment. Envied the steadfast way she set herself to carry this task out though everyone knew she hated it. There was no mistaking her displeasure but she discarded her emotions like they were clothes she chose to wear and forged on. Gleaning some of her perseverance, I smiled sadly and said, “Queen Hanyu favors you then.”

Nesta’s lips pursed and her eyes slid behind me to where Cassian stood. Once there, they didn’t move. “You could say that.” 

I stamped down my amusement at the breeze that greeted my back and the annoyed huff from Cassian. “We should go then,” I nodded and slid past them out the door. Even as Nesta trailed along after, I could feel my family’s eyes on my back. We’d have a tail all night though I’d let them pretend they could surprise me. “I thought you said you were not supposed to use magic,” I began. 

Sunset would follow soon. Right now, the sky was cast in brilliant orange and a deep blue. Not a single cloud in the sky. Everyone in the streets walked at a sedate pace in respect for the beautiful evening. It was warm out but the air felt like it was hugging me rather than strangling me. I kept my magic dampened to a maximum. I even went so far as to cloak myself in some shadows. The less present I was, the better. 

“I’m _not_ ,” she replied stiffly, matching my stride. Nesta was taller than Feyre and whatever shoes she wore put her at eye level with me. It made her glare much more threatening when it was leveled on me. 

“Then why do you reek of magic?” I bit my cheek. 

She snorted. “I do not.”

“My nose might fall from my face if I stand in your presence much longer. You’ve been using magic.”

“I have not.” 

“Have to.” 

She pursed her lips, eyes flicking over my serene mask. The air smelled sweet like someone had candied fruits nearby. I swallowed thinking of dried, sweet mangos. “I guess I’ll just have to wait to see if your nose falls off. Would be an improvement.” 

“Delightful as always,” I dipped my head. Perhaps I couldn’t goad Lucien but Nesta didn’t disappoint. “You might not recognize it but your magic has a way of escaping you. I’m sure Amren would not approve.” 

“Amren doesn’t approve of anything,” she rolled her eyes. We were approaching the city walls. Prow City was even less impressive after centuries following it’s construction. I knew the fae were an opulent species that favored richness and brilliance but the humans must have tried especially hard in the construction of this one city for dullness. Like their rooms, everything appeared faded. 

A blonde male stood at the gates. “I suppose that is Lord Remus,” I inhaled deeply while we approached, using my Illyrian blood to pull secrets out of the air. Sweat and pride with only hints of something less favorable. I glared at the male, mollified Nesta seemed to hate the male more than I did.

“Quit that,” Nesta hissed, linking arms with me automatically. 

“Be glad all I do is glare,” I snipped back.

“This was easier when you stayed in the Night Court. You were a very good damsel in distress.” 

I caught myself before I balked. “Damsel in distress?” I nearly choked on the words coming from my mouth. She stayed silent until we reached Lord Remus. I gave the human credit for not spitting on me when I was within range. Gauging from his eyes, he direly wanted to. A million lines flitted around my brain, all amusing to me and all capable of turning this night to shit. Somehow, they all had the common usage of the word _‘mortal’._

There was nothing I could say that the human wouldn’t damn me for so I smiled blandly. He sniffed, eyes focusing on Nesta and taking in her dress. I hoped Cassian wasn’t trailing us tonight. I didn’t think his instincts would have become any more reasonable in the last few hours. 

I tightened my hold on Nesta’s arm when her magic stirred. How she had no idea that it moved about her perplexed me. It was like Azriel’s shadows except instead of being a spare limb, it was a spare entity. Her magic had a mind of its own. I tried not to think if that _mind_ belonged to the Cauldron. My stomach sank at the mere thought. I was used to my magic being a tool, an extension of my will and only that. That belief led to utter confusion where Elain and Nesta were concerned. Feyre’s trouble with her magic made sense to me. She had so many types of magic inside her, there was bound to be conflicts. 

_I never did get to tell her of my theories_ , an intrusive thought echoed. _We didn’t have the time._ On the last day I spent with my mate, I’d spent it cross with her. I was angry that she withheld Elain’s warnings from me. I told her she would be an equal to me and at the first chance she acted independent of my will, I couldn’t handle it. And I’d wasted the time with her. I’d never got to telling her that I believed her magic was limited by her strict objection to using Spring Court magic. She’d practiced every other Court power besides the Spring Court. This naturally pleased me but when other abilities didn’t develop it only worried me. I thought it could explain why her winnowing and daemati abilities were suffering. Her magic wasn’t completely awoken yet since a piece of it was still silent. 

I didn’t know if that was true or not. She might just have too much power to be able to train herself competently in every skill. Even as I thought it, I didn’t believe it. Feyre was stubborn. Stubborn like Nesta and Elain. She’d overcome the challenge whatever it was. I said these words to myself whenever I tried to sleep. 

Lord Remus walked in front of us, content to ignore me which suited me well. My diplomatic skills were at an all time low as of this moment. We approached double doors from beyond which the quiet rumble of conversation emerged. Light escaped the bottom of the doors and trailed into the dimming hallway. Lord Remus dipped his head to Nesta before opening the doors and stepping in ahead, “Presenting Lady Feyre and High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court.” 

I hated the way the male said Feyre’s name. It lost all it’s luster on his incompetent tongue. The fact he was entranced by Nesta only pissed me off more since prompted the slight purr in his voice. I growled low but Nesta’s nails scratched my hand, drawing a shallow cut that healed just as soon as it appeared.

A dinner table arranged in a hexagon met us. The five Queens took a side for themselves and their favored nobles, royal guards standing at their back. The last side was reserved for Nesta and I, evident by the two lonesome seats. I wished I had my entire family here. I wanted Amren to purr until their teeth clattered and Mor to lay backhanded compliments on them while she depleted them of their wine. Cassian and Azriel would stand and one flare of their wings and each Queen would know what true warriors looked like. Royal guards were pitiful in the face of my brothers who were deadly given only dinner utensils. I wanted to watch as Lucien and Elain maneuver the courtiers with the knowing glint in their eyes, speaking riddles with unsettling implications. And I wished they could feel magic and sense it rolling of Nesta in waves that made the hair stick up on my arms; I wanted them to count themselves lucky Nesta chose to ally with them. 

Lastly, I wanted to sit next to Feyre and watch this unfold with her hand clasped tightly in mine. Her silly smile widening as she chuckled over our family’s shenanigans, managing a warm grace I treasured above all else because it was genuine and it had no bounds. 

I shook myself when Nesta led me to our seats. I’d been imagining what I’d hoped Starfall would be like, without the political connotations. _Two days_ , I closed my eyes briefly. I hadn’t been able to move the things I stored for Feyre. Her dress and crown included. They were in my bedchamber in the House of Wind, hidden in my closet where Feyre would not have cared to pry through. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen a High Lord,” one of the Queens intoned. She had dark, curly hair streaked with grey. If she meant to come off as wise in her age, it would have succeeded had she spoken to someone far younger than I was. 

“I suspect none of you have,” I replied. Nesta nudged me. I didn’t think what I said was rude. Even the oldest among them was less than a fifth of my years. “But of course that is too long. We should not spend our time divided.” 

“Quite,” the same Queen dipped her head. I waited for them to introduce themselves but none of them ever did. I should not have expected that. Queens do not need introduction. 

Servants brought out trays of food held on silver platters. It was very bland but I shouldn’t judge as most things tasted bland to me now. Even the wine was too weak to give me anything but a stomach ache. The Queens ate in silence, glancing up at Nesta and I in a way they must have believed to be discreet. I knew I looked odd in comparison but I had dimmed my appearance significantly to avoid this. The longer we sat without speaking, the more annoyed I grew. I could have, as Nesta put it, been a Damsel in Distress at the Night Court in the comfort of my own home but now I was on display for a room full of people who hated me. _This is for Feyre_ , I reminded myself hotly. 

“And what is your opinion on returning our piece of the Book following the end of the war?” one Queen asked, spooning soup into her mouth. Her eyes were wide, round and attempting an innocence that only Elain could master.

I didn’t say that there was no way in hell the Book would return to them. I parted with my offering freely knowing I’d never see it again. We’d tell them the Book was destroyed and hope they were satisfied with all our sacrifices. The Book, if it survived, would belong to Nesta. _Even Helion can’t expect to stuff it in one of his many secret libraries_ , I thought bitterly. “If we expect to ever get our offerings back, we will return the piece,” I offered what I hope was a wry smile. 

“And if the Book is destroyed? Do you expect to reclaim the offerings?” her golden brow arched knowingly. “Should we make this a bargain, as the fae so often does?” I was saved from baring my teeth by Nesta. 

“No. The offerings are yours as a demonstration of our trustworthiness,” she replied clearly. “No need for a bargain.” 

“Do not all exchanges end in bargains?” the golden Queen persisted. _This one was without a doubt Lord Remus’s cousin._

“No. This is a symbol of our goodwill—” 

“ _Your_ goodwill,” the elderly Queen nearly hissed. “ _We_ are gifting _you_ the Book, child.” 

I prepared myself for the flaying. Nesta spoke out to a room of High Lords when she was a human. She dismissed Helion with ease. She regularly pissed Cassian off for sport. She lied to Hybern and walked willingly to her death. Her backbone was stronger than more fae I’d met. The elderly Queen was tempting the strength of that resolve. 

Instead, Nesta nodded patiently. “Yes,” Nesta even smiled, sticking a small bite of mushroom into her mouth and chewing slowly. The picture of understanding and friendliness. “You are correct. I was misspoken.” The worst part was she lied so well _I believed_ it. I was half tempted to winnow away just to ask her if she even meant that. Her face was stuck in some mask I couldn’t break. I only knew it was a mask because Nesta never smiled willingly in my presence. 

The Queen dipped her chin, mumbling something discontentedly. 

“And the other High Lords are in agreement?”

I sighed. Another useless question. Nesta’s heel dug into my boot and despite the hard leather, her heel had no problem finding my toes. “Yes, which is why seven offerings were provided,” she replied effortlessly, even reaching for second helpings of stuffed mushrooms. I struggled not to stare hard at Nesta, searching for the crack in her guise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a dance. A dance I was well acquainted with and yet didn’t possess the patience to endure. A couple of times I thought I saw slips of Azriel’s shadows but couldn’t be sure. 

Every question the Queens posed was nothing I wouldn’t have expected. They wanted to know how they could trust us and they asked every question that could help them answer this question. The most surprising part was that they didn’t deny us outright for the Book. They could have. I wouldn’t have unleashed my magic to force them too. I would want to but in the end, I’d have to respect their freewill and find another way. Nesta might have trouble accepting that response, as was her right to. But the Queens didn’t hold the Book over our heads like a threat which I could respect. 

During the dinner, I attempted to figure out where they hid the Book. Five Queens. One novel. To whom does the Book belong to? 

I couldn’t sense any magical object past the cloud of magic Nesta casted beyond herself. I was lucky that wasn’t necessary to our plan as Nesta fairly blinded all my senses. It was odd how the sisters did that to me. Feyre’s magic was immense yet invigorating. Elain’s magic had no obvious indications it was even there until I looked for it. In that case, I’d find a  _ blurry spot  _ that I was unable to fully understand. No amount of magic prodding would yield any information as if magic disappeared into her and never came back out again. Lastly, Nesta’s magic overwhelmed my senses. Like shining a light in my eyes, nothing was discernible past the cloud of her magic and proximity only worsened the effect. 

Cassian said she was like a flame without a candle and she really was. There was no reason on the planet for Nesta’s magic to exist as it did. She reminded me of the rivers in the Illyrian mountains where the water was so black you didn’t know how deep it ran. You could step in and be sucked underneath, expecting to find solid ground and just slipping into more water instead. Her magic had no end and no beginning; it wasn’t confined and didn’t subject to normal examinations. It was pure and raw, magic stripped to its barest components that I normally associated with the First Fae. Power like that which Nesta possessed just didn’t exist. 

_ Except… _

That wasn’t true. Raw magic had a place in our world but it was confined to one of two places: Amren or the Prison. Beings of old that had crossed into our world and couldn’t find a way back usually found themselves bound in painful ways. The Weaver. The Bone Carver. Amren. Nesta was the first of this world to cross paths with the very same magic we attributed to  _ otherworldly beings _ . That opened up an endless pit of questions and concerns that had no answers, at least none that would help me sleep at night. 

Once those thoughts crossed my mind, I grew nauseous. I resolved to keep my thoughts only to Nesta’s power being ‘very strong’ and going no further. 

I glanced to Nesta to see if she had felt the shift in my thoughts. Her face was still curiously controlled, sipping the human wine like it tasted better than rotten fruit. Then her eyes slid to me and I swore the steel shifted to iron when heated till it bled red. Gone faster than I could track. 

She raised a brow at me, eyes shifting back to Queen Nuru as the human prepared herself to ask another painfully dull question. Nesta raised her chin, perpetually ready. I wondered if Nesta’s patience had a limit like her magic or if she ever lost her temper. There had to be a limit somewhere inside her, right? I decided while studying the set in her jaw and pride in her posture that I never wanted to see where her limit lay. 

“The fae are subject to many of their baser instincts,” Queen Nuru said loftily.  _ Humans had instincts _ , I wanted to growl.  _ You just don’t listen to yours when you should _ . Like now, any human was probably realizing this line of questioning was offensive at the least and dangerous at best. Yet, Queen Nuru forged on with the security of a person who was used to their throne. “And yet you appear so rational. I’ve heard many alarming stories of mates who have committed atrocious acts in the name of their mates, their families.”

_ We’ve all heard that story _ , I sighed internally. I thought I’d let Nesta take the question as she was capable of doing but Nesta sat back in her seat. Her jaw was tight. Looking at her only hurt my eyes. “Instincts are an emotion, a strong one, but only a feeling that can be controlled,” I answered politically. How can you describe something to which a human doesn’t believe exists? The difference between human and fae instincts were fae instincts were closer to reflexes as humans were slight tinglings of emotions. I could practice and train all I wanted to control my instincts but when the time came, they had a habit of making themselves known suddenly and with strong introductions.

When Feyre and I completed the mating bond, I knew Cassian would try to piss me off. Nothing had prepared me for the rush of boiling blood to choke him out after his snarky comment. Even just thinking about it, I felt my magic heating to a simmer. 

“That is not what I’ve heard from mates,” the Queen replied knowingly. Her lips were painted a mauve that when she smiled, reminded me sickeningly of Amarantha. A million times I’d seen that same cunning smile usually when she knew she’d succeeded in being particularly cruel. I took my arms from the table. 

“What have you heard from mates then?” Nesta asked. She angled her head to the side and made a convincing impression of a wolf circling prey. She had a unique way of speaking where all words were exceedingly well-formed and clipped. Precisely sharpened to the point they could cut. 

“Are these a demonstration of those instincts?” Queen Juno asked, eyes lighting with interest. The Queen was obviously detached from her own instincts as Nesta’s eyes lit with a fire apparently only I could see. 

“I’ve been demonstrating my instincts throughout our discussion,” Nesta blinked back, eyes wide and entrapping. All five Queens had furrowed brows at Nesta’s declaration. None of them spoke while Nesta held their attention, her magic acting like net. I had a difficult time tearing my eyes away, even though my head was aching the more I looked. 

Nesta shook her head, swirling her glass of wine absentmindedly. I wondered if she knew the magic she was summoning without even trying. I begged the amulet Lucien gifted her to hold out for just a little while longer. “I’ve answered your intrusive questions, accepted your feinted praise and ignored your insults. Not because I am intimidated by the displays of your strength. It is because my instincts have placed my family first in my eyes and they are all in danger while Hybern walks this ground. If only you could feel the same terror in your own bodies as I do in my own,” she sighed and the room breathed with her. “Then you would know that I’ve stood here because nothing shall dissuade me from Hybern’s complete and utter destruction. Without the Book, we are all in danger. I hope your own instincts have told you as much.” 

The Queens shifted, eyes glancing from one to the next. Silent words of agreement that they all heard. The air chilled considerably. The double door entrance to the hall opened and a small boy walked in, heading to Queen Nuru’s side. He turned to us though his eyes were unseeing. Pale blue, they stuck out just like Cresseida’s against his black skin. He had several colorful necklaces hanging about him and each one had a small gem pendant that glowed. Past Nesta’s magic, I couldn’t discern much but I was willing to bet my life that those were the same gems used to make Illyrian siphons. The boy had magic or at least wore it about his neck. Nesta recoiled visibly at the child, eyes growing uncomfortably cold. “Aslan will deliver the Book to your chambers. We shall keep your offerings. Expect to keep in touch,” she waived and the boy left the room wordlessly. I had a hundred thoughts for why a human wore magical objects and none of them pleased me why he was kept here.

Nesta didn’t move from the table so I rose and offered her my hand. I heard the dismissal in Queen Nuru’s voice and launched myself at it. Freedom was nigh. Nesta quickly latched at my hand, fingers crushing my bones. I was positive she broke everyone she held. I turned from the Queens to hide my reaction, biting my lower lip till it bled. Nesta was unresponsive to my pain, completely sucked in by her own thoughts. Her eyes still hadn’t met mine and I wondered if I’d meet the familiar blue steel or find myself looking into the Cauldron’s depths. 

Whatever fearful response Aslan instilled in Nesta had put her somewhere beyond my reach. It was up to me to formulate a response and rush from the room. Nesta would be unconscious soon if she kept breaking my hand. I didn’t want to hurt her but I wouldn’t wait to see what other part of me she’d crush unknowingly. Her magic sucked itself back into her. I inclined my head to the Queens. “We are your allies and we will destroy Hybern with your gift. It will not be in vain,” I intoned with some semblance of grace I didn’t feel myself. I didn’t bother walking from the room. I winnowed Nesta and I straight from the hall, much to everyone’s dismay. 

Though I didn’t go straight back to the apartments. No need for Cassian to begin tearing down walls. I thought Nesta might snap out of her trance when we left but she didn’t. Her eyes continued to stare far off, somewhere I couldn’t reach. 

“Nesta?” I asked quietly. She hadn’t relinquished my hand yet and a drip of blood was turning into a stream. I didn’t reach for my magic. I could try to see into her mind but I thought I’d never survive the attempt, my mind coming from the experience much like my hand in her grasp. 

Just as dread was pooling in my stomach, a familiar tingling warmed in my mind’s eye. The last time Nesta had been beyond reach had been her connection to the Cauldron and to Feyre. If this was another one of those instances…

Azriel and Cassian were not around to keep me grounded. 

Yet my mind was spinning with a new awareness, new sensation. A realization was dawning on me and just waiting to be fully understood. My back muscles spasmed with the rigidity I forced onto them. I worried if I didn’t tighten down all my control, I’d unleash my magic. The ground still trembled. Something had changed inside me. Like a memory of a smell or a phantom sensation that paused my heart and kept me suspended in disbelief. A soft exhale ghosted past my ear, heard only to me and recognized by every fiber of my being. The mental bond woke on a gasp from my mate’s lips,  _ Rhysand.  _


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO READER: This chapter contains assault and sexual assault; PLEASE exercise caution when proceeding. For readers who do not want to read those scenes, I will be posting summary bullet points at the start of the *next* chapter.
> 
> The parts of this chapter that feel vague or odd are that way for a reason; I want you guys to make assumptions. 
> 
> Full Moon - The Black Ghosts

**Feyre:**

I kept my head tilted back on the wall. It helped to contain my nosebleed. Otherwise, it made me lightheaded enough that I could pass out when I was lucky. One day in Hybern’s prisons and my body was hanging limply from my bones. It was hard to have a will or care to escape when I could not find the effort to breathe. My chest ached so painfully. I was wheezing like a sick dog or someone with a punctured lung. Since my breathing was partially obstructed by liquid, that could have very well been my case. 

Jurian had me sail to shore where I thought I’d be chained somewhere and left to rot. I was wrong on both accounts. The new and creative alternative to chaining a fae was driving iron rods through their skin and warding the fae onto the rods. The more I struggled, the more the rods burned. I had two pinning my shoulders to the wall. I couldn’t hang from them or they’d tear my flesh so I stood frozen to keep the pain to a minimum. 

The cell was three stone walls with the fourth made from an iron wrought wall across from me, fit with a door that did come with it’s own lock. Across the narrow hall was a cell just like mine. Somewhere down the hall was a window as when dawn broke, I thought I’d been hallucinating. It was faint but a haze of light spilled onto the stone so at least I could mark the passing of time. _ That would be helpful at one point _ , I nodded tiredly. The actual prison was kept on a smaller island just off the shore of Hybern. The sound of waves crashing drowned out most of the noise. This also meant the scent of rotting fish hadn’t left my nose.  _ Lovely.  _

After being mounted onto a wall like a painting, two faces I thought I’d never see again reappeared. Dark haired and murderous, twins. The day Cassian and Azriel almost died and the first day I winnowed, I’d met them and thwarted their neat plans to capture both my mate and his top military commanders. They didn’t have fond memories of me either. I was silly to think I’d be left blissfully alone to my own thoughts during my captivity, that the worst of my treatment had been a stripping and beating. The twins made me wish for the Attor. 

Brannagh and Dagdan filled in the doorway as if to remind me escape was only possible if I went through them. At the time, I had enough life in me to think I preferred it that way. I didn’t want to leave loose ends after all but my list of  _ to dos  _ before I escaped was growing too long: 

_ Kill Hybern.  _

_ Kill Jurian.  _

_ Kill the Attor.  _

_ Kill my new torturers: Brannagh and Dagdan _

_ Take Tamlin with me.  _

_ Steal the Cauldron.  _

_ Kill as many of Hybern’s soldiers as I could on the way out.  _

It was a long list. One that I’d not be able to accomplish in one daring escape. Maybe if I had all my strength and more luck than I’d any right to, I could slap together a plan. But right now as my head fell forward again, my eyes could only focus on the blood dripping in thick rivulets off my chest. I never knew my skin could get so pink.

Of course, they’d stopped the faebane yesterday so all that was done would heal in time. I was worried they’d guess at my abilities but my weakness slowed my healing to make it less suspicious. Starvation had that kind of effect. Luckily, that meant they had to slow their torture if they didn’t want to kill me. Well, they did want to kill me and badly but Hybern made it clear my life was valuable enough not to risk. Jurian had said as much but I hadn’t seen the head nor tail of the male since we were tossed off the ship. 

They left when they felt they’d introduced themselves properly to me and then went to visit with Tamlin who was kept in a cell somewhere near mine. We had an unspoken agreement that neither of us could make a sound. If Tamlin started screaming, even as much I hated him, I didn’t think I could withstand that noise. I could handle my own pain but no one else's. There was that small mercy at least. 

They spent all night with me and the morning with Tamlin. Apparently, they didn’t share Amarantha’s fixation on the High Lord and I could satisfy myself with that small gift. As my cell darkened though, I felt the first tinglings of my magic coming back to life. The broken bones in my toes righted themselves and the shallow cuts wove themselves together, sealing away my innards. I even thought some of my hair had grown back to it’s normal length. My blood didn’t thrum but I counted myself blessed that the majority of my wounds were healing nicely. Even my stomach didn’t feel too painfully empty but that could have been, in part, from the shriveled apple I’d received that morning. 

My left arm didn’t heal though. The tattoo was still a wreckage of it’s once beautiful self. The work of art was still visible; however, the sheer intricacy of it’s original form made any imperfection seem disastrous. It was like a painting that had been splashed with some oil in the corner. Of course, the image was still there but it seemed less worthy and more pathetic having been marred. 

Cassian had said something along the lines of  _ scars are proof of survival.  _ Or maybe that was Morrigan. Actually, I thought it was Azriel. As my eyes trailed over the ragged edges of my scabs that peeled away to reveal scar tissue, I couldn’t find the strength. I knew what the tattoo was meant to look like and I was ashamed with what it had become. Funny how my opinion of it had changed so radically in the past few months. It used to brand me as  _ dirty  _ or  _ other  _ when I was in the Spring Court. Then it became a symbol of my trials Under the Mountain and I was proud of it. Falling in love with my mate made it a prized treasure, the start of our relationship and the visual tie between us. Now, looking at the warped skin that twisted and snaked along my arm, it was evidence of my weakness. It would always remind me and Rhysand of what had happened to me, like a dark cloud. 

I could only assume if my tattoo hadn’t healed then my ears hadn’t either. The Attor had sought to erase my  _ faeness  _ and I was sure my newly rounded ears would do just that. I didn’t care if I didn’t look fae. I, even, wasn’t particularly upset I’d gained new scars. 

I was angry with the effect my scars would produce. It did not matter what the truth of my captivity was, only that I’d been Hybern’s captive and now was made into a victim. Anyone who saw me would lay awake in their beds and imagine the horrors of what was done to me and count themselves lucky it wasn’t them. They’d say _yes, the Lady of the Night Court, tragic what became of her._ They’d pat Rhysand’s back or give him nods of condolences because everyone ‘knew’ what happened to the fae under Hybern’s care. My story wasn’t my own. It now belonged to the imagination of everyone who surrounded me, even my mate. 

_ Poor Feyre _ . 

I was angry. Livid. Blood boiled even though it only hurt to have my heart rate increase so frantically. Sweat developed on my brow. My hands clenched into fists. My title would have new and most unwelcome additions to it.  _ Feyre Archeron, Youngest Archeron Sister, High Lady of the Night Court, Mate to the High Lord of the Night Court, Human Made Immortal, Cursebreaker, and Victim.  _

I’d survived Amarantha and Under the Mountain. Only after months of training did I feel that I might be able to live with what I had done to survive. How long would it take me to come to terms with captivity here? Centuries? Not if I could help it. I’d find a way to escape and I’d reclaim every second I lost here. I’d make up for it by paying Hybern back with a  _ long and happy life _ , even if I had to kill everyone on the island to get there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brannagh and Dagdan came with warded cuffs later. Jurian too. 

I was a dead weight by then so I let Jurian snake his hands deftly around my shoulder and slide my body off the iron rods. His skin was cold to the touch and shocked me awake. My body had stupidly wove skin around the irons which tore back open as he lifted me forward. He didn’t bother letting me walk. Wordlessly hefting me over his shoulder, my cuffed hands dangled uselessly in front of my eyes. They swayed as he walked. I lost the shriveled apple in the next step, staining the back of his tunic but he didn’t comment. 

I thought Brannagh and Dagdan followed Jurian and I down the hall but couldn’t summon the energy to check myself. I was conserving all of my magic for my escape now. I’d do nothing excessive until the moment was right. This meant letting my achy body hang like a limp noodle and accepting the bumps and bruises I got along the way. We all got situated in a skiff and made for Hybern’s shore, ocean waves threatening me with more vomiting. 

Though the more magic that came back to me, the more I felt the waking of my mental bond. I had to make a decision and soon. Hybern wanted that bond alive. He wanted Rhysand to know what was happening to me and I had to decide if I was strong enough to withstand that temptation. Could I shut out my mate to keep him safe? Could I open my mind to him and keep him from seeing my reality? 

We arrived quicker to our destination than I thought feasible. Only a few minutes on the waves till we hit the sand. Then we walked single file into a dark hole in the rocky cliff face. Perhaps five minutes of climbing a seemingly endless spiral staircase, carved into the stone before entering the grandhall. No torches lit the stairwell so it was hard to tell if there were other entrances. Though one thing was apparent: no guards. I hadn’t seen a single guard since we left the prison’s island. I didn’t know what that meant. My magic wasn’t strong enough for me to begin casting out my senses. I needed more  _ time _ . 

The great hall boasted a ceiling so tall above my head, I couldn’t see it. Grey pillars with dragons carved into the face, painted blue and gold, spiraled around the columns. Each stone panel on the floor was decorated with ancient text. It smelled heavily of incense and magic inside, my nose twitching in irritation. 

Jurian dumped me on the ground. My chin hit the stone and burst open. My eyelids burst with pain that blinded me, making me bite my tongue. Iron flooded my mouth again. I was bent over my knees so the best I could do was fall onto my hip with my hands cuffed before me. He still stood over me, eyes fixed forward. His leather boot dug into my back but he didn’t kick me off. I was ashamed that I needed to pant to avoid passing out. 

I laid my temple on the stone floor and watched Brannagh and Dagdan carry Tamlin in and dump him besides me. Hybern sat across from us, on a throne made of warped driftwood and something metallic. In the low torchlight, it might have been gold. Next to him was the Cauldron.  _ Fuck _ .

“The faebane should have passed from your system but I was informed by a former daemati prisoner that those talents can be tricky in returning. We’ve sent for a daemati soldier but your kind is far rarer than I’d hoped. Brannagh and Dagdan have kindly stepped in,” Hybern waved forward and Jurian knelt behind me, arms snaking under my shoulders to prop me up. 

Brannagh stepped forward. To my horror, I felt the walls of my mind. If I was conscious of the limits of my thoughts then my magic had returned enough for me to reach for Rhysand. I could do it now. If I peaked beyond my mental walls, I was sure I’d find his mental presence. Both relief and horror filled me. He might not be aware of me but once I looked for him, he would know. I’d need to make my decision soon. 

“We are looking for your armies, High Lord,” Brannagh said. Her voice echoed inside my head. She was pressing my mental walls between metal talons. A soft moan escaped me. Tamlin shifted next to me. He craned his neck to watch me. Our heads were a pace from each other but I could still make out the golden flecks embedded in the emerald. Hybern took a loud gulp of wine. 

Tears swarmed my eyes. I didn’t know Brannagh and Dagdan were daemati. I was unpracticed. My magic hadn’t developed those skills yet. I could build a mental wall to keep Rhysand out but that was no definitive measure of my ability, how I’d hold up under torture. Jurian reached out to keep my jaw still, my focus towards Brannagh but my eyes slid back to Tamlin. I didn’t know we said to each other. There were many things to say that I now felt would never have their time. 

“Come on, find your  _ mate _ ,” Brannagh cooed, eyes widening until they were orbs and all the whites had been blotted out by ink-black irises. My mating bond would connect me to Rhysand. Once Brannagh gained entry, she’d find him as well. She’d also find the war camp.  _ Velaris.  _ I gasped and strained, bucking against her invasion. I was back to being submerged under water, my lungs ready to burst but I continued to struggle even if it all was in vain. The pressure on my mind doubled with her renewed effort. All I could think to do was escape. Escape down that mental bond to my mate but Brannagh also awaited outside my mind, ready to lunge for my secrets. I was trapped inside so I searched for my memories. I’d find solace there. 

_ Would you be my High Lady? Would you be heir to our lands? _

Tears squeezed from my eyes and tracked hot, wet trails down my cheeks. Hybern was speaking to Dagdan in a low, measured tone but I couldn’t hear his words. Not past the words echoing in my mind. Jurian’s thumb dug harsher into my cheek, his nail cutting the skin and the force prying apart my jaw. 

_...give over yourself, body and spirit, to the Night Court... _

The longer Brannagh leaned on me, the hotter my face grew. I needed to breathe. I needed rest. My body was being crushed. I couldn’t ask forgiveness here because there could be no failure. Like running up a hill, my mind begged me to stop and give in. “Let me in and this will all be over,” Brannagh assured encouragingly. She even smiled but her teeth looked sharp, ready to tear out my throat. 

_...allow nothing to take from our people and lands... _

I swallowed. I could feel her mind opening, preparing for the moment I’d slip up. Her energy was not like Rhysand’s. His was a rhythmic beating of the drums that echoed in my body, in my heart. He was powerful and enduring like the ocean waves that persistently beat against the shoreline. Brannagh was cold and slippery, like the eel beneath the surface. 

Rhysand’s voice from my memories filtered through, ... _ I ask you… _

Brannagh spoke again and I didn’t allow myself to hear her. I closed my eyes to Tamlin, shutting myself into my mind. I erased all detracting thoughts: the doubt and fear. Failure didn’t exist where I was because I willed it to be erased too. 

_...to seek blood and mercy in equal measure for the rest of your days… _

All I had was the view of Velaris from the House of Wind. The beautiful cityscape at nightfall, city lights mirroring the stars above. The smell of salt and sea, not the rotting fish of my prison. Rhysand and my first stroll together through the streets. How my purple saree glittered, matching my mate’s eyes. The unending look he possessed when dressed in black. Where his silhouette blurred under the night sky and he appeared eternal. 

_...under the gaze of all those who have come before… _

My blood thrummed. I could almost see my sisters dancing in Rita’s on that last night we all spent together. I could hear rich, booming laughter met with sarcastic retorts. My hands tingled with my mate’s phantom touch. 

_...until you return to your place among them.  _

I sucked in my doubt and opened the gates of my mind. Brannagh was quick. She launched and I filled the doorway of my mind when she entered. The secrets of my life laid bare before the fae and what a treasure she’d discovered. The secret City of Starlight, prize of the Night Court. Our negotiations with the Human Queens. Nesta’s ties to the Cauldron. The location of the war camps. Lucien’s relationship to Helion and the Day Court. Our mission to Adriata and recovery of the Book of Breathings. Elain’s Seer abilities. I could feel her delight. How entranced she was that she never noticed the walls closing behind her. She’d left her mind open to me, never imagining I’d be seeking entry as well. 

I struck. I seized her mind, imagining I knew what to do. I reasoned with myself that getting past her mental walls would be no different from finding an opening in a fight. I was right. I found the weakness and threw my magic against her defenses until they shattered. She wasn't prepared. From there, it was a matter of drawing her sword from her scabbard and plunging it repeatedly into her neck. Dagdan was too slow to her side. They didn’t expect me to strike back. Jurian sucked in when I’d grabbed a hold of Brannagh and his hold on me tightened but even he couldn’t stop me. Her mental talons attempted to stop me, scraping against my magic with futile attempts. 

With a gurgle, Brannagh slumped to the floor. Lifeless. Her eyes still wide with shock. Dagdan was quick too. Grabbing the knife Brannagh had used to kill herself, he lunged for me. It was Jurian’s quick shove that threw Dagdan off balance. He tumbled back over Tamlin, stumbling. Brannagh’s blood ran into the space between the stone panels, making moats of it that stretched ugly little fingers towards Tamlin and I. Jurian was pulling me back from where Dagdan could reach me. Dagdan’s screams of rage filled my ears and the feeling was shared. The room was swallowed by shouts but all I could hear was Dagdan’s and the heavy thump of his heart. His sweat poured from his forehead. Those dark eyes feasted on his sister’s limp form and strained, another cry on his throat. He raised the blade again but this time, not for me. He swung downwards and the metal clashed with stone. Sparks flew. 

Tamlin’s scream came next. The sound permanently nestled in my mind. His eyes were wide with horror and mouth agape. His left hand was severed past the wrist. His blood mixed with Brannaghs and I couldn’t tell who belonged to who but I’d been responsible for both. Hybern’s roar met all our shared screams, he launched from his seat. “You are lucky I do not have the Cauldron, I would easily throw you in it just to get rid of you,” he thundered towards me. His fist across my cheek came swift. He kept striking at me. I lost a few teeth. Dagdan’s screams turned to low howls of pain. He abandoned Tamlin to cradle his twin. Jurian’s grip on me slackened. I realized he was warning Hybern I was nearing unconsciousness. Hybern bent down to low. His hands clutched at my jaw to force our eyes to meet. “That bitch took the Cauldron’s magic but I’ll find her. When I do, she’ll watch when I turn you into something more true to form,” he spat. 

Blood pooled in my mouth but that didn’t stop the flow of my words. “That  bitch  is my sister,” I gurgled. The thick liquid dripped over my lips to coat his hands. His white doublet stained pink. “And she’s going to grind your bones into dust.” 

Hybern straightened, nostrils flaring. He struck at me a few more times before Jurian had to intervene. Helpless to defend myself, all hits were true and brutal. I dozed in and out of consciousness even as Jurian collected me to return to my prison. I wasn’t awake when he removed the cuffs and hefted me back onto the iron rods. I didn’t know if Tamlin followed or not. I came around sometime later, hazy light glimmering in the hall across from me.  _ That would be helpful at one point _ , I nodded tiredly. 

In my time spent unconscious, I came to a decision. I opened my mental walls and reached for my mate. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: The 1st half of Nesta's added chapter should be regarded with the same caution used in Chapter 19; the 2nd half only has a mild warning for mentioned violence. I will post a summary on Chapter 21 for those who choose to skip. 
> 
> Chapter 19 Summary:  
> -Feyre reunites with Brannagh and Dagdan  
> -They've stopped giving her faebane so she is regaining her magic but it's exhausted  
> -Feyre knows she has to decide what she wants to do when the mental bond with Rhysand comes back  
> -Feyre and Tamlin are brought before Hybern and the Cauldron  
> -Brannagh and Dagdan are daemati  
> -Brannagh attempts to find out where the war camps are, where Rhysand is from Feyre's mind  
> -Feyre lets Brannagh into her mind only to take over Brannagh's mind and kill her  
> -Dagdan chops off Tamlin's left hand in rage  
> -Feyre is brought back to her cell and she reaches out to Rhysand

Azriel found Nesta and I first. We stood still outside the walls of Prow City. I barely felt his energy until he was next to me. I couldn’t focus on anything outside of me. What used to feel natural was now so strange and foreign. As if someone was dangling a prize in front of me and if I lunged too quickly, they’d steal it away. So I was forced to salivate, lick my lips and watch it sway while I slowly extended my hand. _This couldn’t be a trick_ , I told myself. Hybern wouldn’t be able to force Feyre to call me. This was real. She was real. She was alive and she was speaking to me again. 

_Rhysand_ , Feyre repeated again. Her voice choked and brought me to my senses. The mental bond was luminous after so long a dark spell. Her energy, exhausted, comforted me. It flickered like a candle. The phantom scent of lilac filled my nostrils. My thumb and index finger rubbed together like I could feel her hair slipping through them like fine silk. She was _here_ and not. 

Azriel was speaking. His hand was on my shoulder. He was asking if we could move or if he should get Mor. My lips didn’t obey my commands. Nothing worked beyond my heart and mind. Sluggish blood pushed through my veins to give my brain life and that was all that I needed. I gulped. 

_Is that Azriel?_ She whispered. 

_Feyre_ , I breathed out. I’d said her names so many times in the night and not once had she returned the call. I’d stay quiet, hoping that she would hear me. Our mating bond was dark. Hybern had taken my mate beyond my physical reach and faebane locked her beyond my mental ability. 

I thought I could hear her swallow as if she was standing right next to me. I imagined she was. _It’s me_ , she affirmed. 

What could I possibly say in the face of this gift? When I’d faced the possibility my mate might die? All thoughts fled and left room for the one emotion I possessed: relief. It was so much more than I could have asked for. I didn’t have any claim to her safety and happiness at the moment but the fact she could still reach me was a gift in itself. 

My nightmares painted Feyre, chained and abused, screaming out to me and hearing only silence. Tortured by the sight of Feyre hoping I would come for her against all the odds and the sobering knowledge she had been abandoned by the one person that fate had tied to her. One day she would give up and accept that she’d been left for carrion. _I hadn’t abandoned her. I could reach her now. She needs to know._

 _I am coming for you_ , I breathed. My shoulders sank with the new weight of my wings. I’d winnow, fly, walk or crawl but I’d get to her. Now that she could reach me, I had a way to find her. Azriel’s gifts had yielded nothing. _Tell me where—_

 _No, Rhys,_ she replied. 

_Feyre, we can get you. I will come for you. You’re not alone._ Words continued to pour out of me. Nonsensical strings of affirmations mixed with apologies and prayers. She needed to know all my thoughts. _I’m sorry Feyre, you won’t stay there long. He can’t break you. You’re stronger than he is._ My shoulders ached and no amount of rolling them out would assuage the pain. Mor’s voice floated in my ear. We were being moved and I allowed my body to go limp. I’d come back when I was ready, when Feyre had told me her precise location and I could return to a world I could handle. Finally, I would be useful. I’d failed my mate so many times. 

_Rhys, do you still trust me?_ She croaked. She sounded so tired, like if she didn’t get out all the words now she wouldn’t find the energy or breath later. I knew she was holding things back from me. Her mind was open to me but it shrank from my touch. A rueful smile found my lips. I never taught her how to shield her emotions from me but that cunning female taught herself. When her mate failed her, she still found a way. 

_Mother above,_ I breathed out. I opened my eyes and my head lolled back, hitting Azriel’s plate. The stars were shining. _I do._

_I can escape._ Doom was opening up a gaping hole again within my mind. I’d done so well to avoid the depthless oblivion it offered. I could enter and never return. In that dark shadow, I could accept the pathetic male I was. The strain in her voice and emotions she held back were pushing me towards that hole. _Rhysand I can escape. I need you to trust me._

My hands opened and closed uselessly. How had I become this male? I do not remember this happening but the night my mate was taken from me, my reflection was a stranger. I couldn’t protect her. Worse. I’d taught her she needed to protect herself, to rely on herself only. _Feyre_ , I swallowed. _You should be here with me. Let me help you._ I was begging but she’s my mate. 

_Hybern is planning a siege,_ she huffed out. _He wants you not thinking clearly. He knows he can reach you through me._ Her voice wavered and she cut off abruptly. The mental bond went dark. I imagined she was collecting herself. Speaking with her like this was as if we stood side-by-side but faced in opposite directions. I could catch glimpses of her emotions, maybe the profile of her face but the majority of our reactions were obscured from one another.

When she came back, her voice was a tad lower. _I need to know you’re safe. When you’re fighting that you’re not distracted by me. So tell me you’re okay and that me reaching out to you wasn’t a mistake._ Her voice broke by the last word and I could hear her sobs, echoing through my ears. They carved at my lungs until my breathing labored. 

_I need to know you’re safe too_ , I repeated. 

Her laugh, even choked with tears, made me smile. Bitterly, but still smile. _I am not safe but I will be. I need to know you’ll be there when I return._

 _I am here_ , I nodded without caring she couldn’t see me. My mate was capable of fantastic things. She’d probably develop the talent sooner or later. The smell of dust and sea perverted my mate’s scent. We were back in the apartments no doubt thanks to my family hauling Nesta and I like deadweights around. A memory came unbidden to me. _You’re mine and I’m yours._

She was crying. Her mental walls were shying from me but even through the gaps in them, I could hear the soft hiccups. I imagined it well. Her eyes got red and puffy and so did her face, to the point she resembled a small tomato. She would try to swallow and suck back in all her tears but would eventually devolve back into her sadness. 

I sighed. I wanted to tear apart the world but I only had these two hands and one stubborn mate. _How long?_

 _How long?_ She repeated. 

_How long do you need to escape?_ What I meant was: _How long should I wait before I come for you myself?_ I needed an end. My hands trembled with that ache. It was worse than when they were frozen from the winds in the Illyrian mountains in my boyhood. I could flex them all I wanted but they still seized up. They were empty now but they knew what they were meant for. 

_A week._

That was too long and impossibly short. I’d been held captive for months in the War and couldn’t escape. I smiled again. My mate exceeded all expectations. _A week then,_ I agreed. Even though I wanted to assure her safety for myself, I felt calmer now that I’d heard her voice. She was tired, pushed to the edge of her own delirium and yet she persisted. Hybern hadn’t taken anything from her, least of all her will. Knowing this, I could accept the possibility that my mate would find a way to escape Hybern’s prisons within a week. She was my High Lady and her willful independence was a part of that role. 

But she didn’t have to be alone through it all. _Feyre._

 _Rhysand_ , she intoned. Her voice leveled and I could see the small smile she held. 

_Don’t shy from me_ , I asked as I extended my magic down the bond to her mind. 

She didn’t but her magic trembled. _Rhysand, you do not need to know. It wouldn’t help you. It’s what Hybern wants._

It was playing directly into Hybern’s hands. She wasn’t wrong but now it was her turn to trust me. _Trust me_ , I asked softly. My magic approached again. _Let me be there with you. You’re not alone._

_Rhysand. I promised I wouldn’t..._ I didn’t know what she referred to but I could guess. _I can be strong_ , she sniffled. _You do not need to stay with me_ , her voice was filled with as much strength as she could muster and held together by desperation. 

_You do not need to be strong now. Let me in. You do not need to hide from me,_ I cooed. It was unfair to ask anything of her now when she was already so exhausted of her energy but that made it all the more necessary. She could save her strength for the rest of the world but she didn’t need it with me. Her defenses peeled away to reveal her open mind. I stepped beyond her exterior and didn’t brace myself. Inside were all the moments I had missed in the week we’d been separated. They haunted her mind, collecting dust if they weren’t already being reexamined. I gulped and let the memories flow. 

_You’ll stay with me?_ Now that I inhabited her mind, I could feel the pain in her chest when she hiccuped. All the bruises that her body couldn’t possibly handle at once so it resorted to slowly tackling the most damaging injuries first. I cut off the part of me that was screaming, choked it out of sheer will and stuffed it away until we eventually would part.

 _You’re mine, Feyre Darling_ , I assured. _For as long as you want me._

**Nesta:**

Brannagh stumbled back from Feyre as if Feyre had somehow shoved her. I could see magic when it was used and Feyre never even lifted a finger in her defense, physical or magical. But Brannagh swayed and once she stood, I saw her raise the sword that she plunged into her own neck. I couldn’t watch that because all I could see was the anger in Feyre’s eyes. The fierce point of her chin and how both blue orbs focused on Brannagh so intensely she couldn’t have seen anything else. Her lips were pulled back tightly while she gritted her teeth, wolfish. Her nostrils flared widely; I could hear the huff of her breath from across the room. Even beyond Hybern’s quiet curses and stumbling besides me. 

The male who held Feyre, Jurian, was as shocked as everyone else in the room. But his eyes weren’t watching Brannagh. He was staring at Dagdan as the male charged my sister, ready to plunge the very same sword his twin used to open her throat into Feyre. One arm jerked Feyre to the side and away from the sword; his other came out to shove Dagdan back, almost skewering himself in the process. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to strike at Feyre, Dagdan severed Tamlin’s left hand. The sword clanging on the stone was too harsh on my ears. The High Lord was screaming but the room still seemed deathly silent. Too much had happened at once for anyone to regain their focus. 

The air almost paused around Feyre with everyone else, watching my sister for her next action. I thought I was about to witness her escape. She could break through their minds and kill them all like Brannagh. She’d proven it too. I urged, begged her silently.  _ Gut them all _ .  _ Skin them and hang their bones like flags.  _ I wanted it to be over. I wanted Feyre to be safe, finally, even if she had to tear through their bodies to get there. 

Hybern was out of his throne in the next breath, stomping down the stairs towards Feyre. I thought he meant to finish what Dagdan started and my breath caught.  _ No no no.  _

He cast out his hand towards Feyre’s defiant eyes. My hands itched to slap her, scream at her to keep her eyes fucking down for  _ once.  _ She could be brave another day but not when Hybern held her life in his greedy hands. But he stopped when he towered over her, the only way he could make her appear small. “You are lucky I do not have the Cauldron, I would easily throw you in it just to get rid of you,” he raised his closed fist and swung it, snapping Feyre’s head to the side. Blood spurted from her lips from the single blow.  _ Crack.  _ Something fractured. Everyone in the room must have heard it except for Hybern who kept laying punch after punch on my sister. Her back bowed, head hanging forward. Jurian had to intervene because Feyre had ceased responding, finally her eyes closed. 

Hybern’s chest heaved from the effort. Both his knuckles were coated in my sister’s blood. His white doublet now stained with splatter and quickly dying pink at the wrists. “That bitch took the Cauldron’s magic but I’ll find her. When I do, she’ll watch when I turn you into something more true to form,” he spat. 

My heart thudded. The longer Feyre’s head hung like that…

Was that  _ crack  _ I heard her neck? Was it? Was she supposed to die here? She told me she would escape and I believed her. I stupidly thought my sister could escape this place when I should have ignored her confidence. How could I still believe in her even when she was kidnapped? How did she manage to inspire such loyalty in her skill? She’s days away from turning twenty two. 

She’d never have listened to me. She’d have stormed the fucking castle for me. I’m here. She’s  _ always  _ been so confident and that has worked for her but there had to come a limit to such  _ luck _ . Something had to give but it couldn’t do so now, not when she was leagues from me. Fuck that confident attitude, it got her into trouble and now…

Blood dribbled from her split lips and her tongue poked out to gingerly swipe. I shuddered. Her eyes opened and cut across the room to me.  _ Fuck _ , I thought watching those eyes harden. There was mirth in those damnable eyes. The cocky, hateful mirth of someone prepared to die. “That  _ bitch _ is my sister,” she might as have as spoken with honey gluing her mouth shut. Even her lips, torn to shreds as they were, tilted upwards.  _ No Feyre, stay down.  _ “And she’s going to grind your bones into dust.” 

I wanted to cry out then but if I did, it never reached her. Hybern’s fists replaced my screams. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hadn’t moved from the bed back in the apartment.

Rhysand was equally quiet and still. His mind was still elsewhere. He’d nod occasionally and mumble something but he appeared to have been lost in his own thoughts. I hadn’t realized at first he ever left until I had come back from the Cauldron myself. I reached out to him to tell him we needed to go after Feyre only to find he wasn’t standing next to me anymore. We weren’t in Prow City. We had moved to the apartment and I never knew. 

More than that, in Cassian’s hands was a worn looking book. He one-handedly held the ancient text and the still-functioning part of my mind wanted to scold him for handling it so haphazardly. He was kneeling before me, before the bed. Cassian’s wings blocked out the candlelight. His broad build blocked everyone out. It could have been just him and I.  _ Was it morning or night?  _

He’d been saying something but when his mouth moved, I didn’t hear him. Not yet. My thoughts were still a swarm. I could hear Hybern’s promises against Tamlin and his planning when Jurian returned from wherever he dumped my sister. But I couldn’t hear my present company. 

Morrigan and Cresseida stood across from me. Morrigan’s brows creased in worry, Cresseida clasping her hand in a way that probably meant to be comforting but looked very tight. I almost jumped from my seat. Azriel was standing to my direct left. I hadn’t even realized he was there until his shadow brushed near me. The cold finally shocking my senses back to me; all my hearing returned and Cassian’s worried, non-stop questions finally rang true. 

I glanced down at the book. I barely took note of its appearance. It was a book like any other but not. Intangible, nondescript and the most important object in the room. It was pulling me in like a lure. I could hear it too. It was so eager to meet me but nothing it said sounded inviting. Like it was cooing me with sinister promises of my destruction. 

“Nesta,” Cassian called again. 

My eyes snapped back to his, jarring me. “Yes,” I uttered, eyes swaying back to the book. 

He threaded his freehand in mine. I didn’t realize I was cold. He couldn’t have been as burning as he felt but I strained not to tear my hand back. I let the ache clear my mind, restore me to my senses. I’d been dangerously close to the Cauldron tonight. It was harder to come back. Flexing my hand in Cassian’s took effort. All my actions required heavy forethought and consideration. 

“You’re here,” he nodded. When my eyes strayed from his, he recaptured them. He’d duck his chin to meet my gaze and pretty soon he held the book behind his back. It’s words vanished from my mind. 

Hazy dark light hung outside our window. I nodded slowly, accepting his affirmation with a swallow. I lost track of time. Seeing Feyre had done that. My heart still hammered against my chest. Hybern had stopped striking her but the sound of wet flesh smacking followed by the crack of her bones still echoed in my ears. “How long did the Cauldron—”

“The Cauldron?” Cresseida echoed, intense blue eyes finding mine. Cassian’s eyes were wide on mine. I couldn’t tell from what. I breathed in.  _ Fear. Anger. Hesitation.  _ Azriel and Morrigan stiffened when she spoke. Morrigan’s brows worried together, like she didn’t know what to make of the female who held her hand. She looked at Cresseida like she was a problem to be solved. 

I hadn’t meant to say it. I never would have said it if I hadn’t been disoriented. I gripped Cassian’s hand tighter, begging it to act like an anchor.  _ Stay stay stay. _

Cassian breathed out, the woosh of air from his lips was the loudest sound in the room. He was so still. My ears perpetually trained on his heart could hear the steady pace he set. He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t hesitating. He’d made a decision and that afforded him a calm, predatory grace. “What of it?” he asked. His voice was so casual he could have been asking about the weather. The scent of cedarwood pervaded the room; his magic building in anticipation of Cresseida’s response. 

While Azriel’s shadows didn’t near me a second time, they still formed a shadow around me too. His cooling magic at direct odds from the leeching warmth I felt from Cassian’s. “What does it matter to you?” he asked, echoing Cassian’s sentiment. He hadn’t moved at all but both him and Cassian were ready, poised. 

Cresseida looked sheepishly to Morrigan. “That is where her raw magic comes from,” she concluded, ignoring Cassian and Azriel’s focus on her back and all the vulnerable points in her armor. The two of them were still connected by their clasped hands. The gesture alone casted a tender shade of light on the pair, like they were just as alone together as Cassian and I had been a moment earlier. 

Morrigan nodded, biting her lip. Azriel hissed. “You promised you wouldn’t tell.” 

Cresseida looked back at me. “I won’t.” 

Her confirmation did nothing to relieve the tension in Azriel and Cassian. “You said it yourself,” Cassian dared, voice smoothing into the softest hiss. “The Summer Court are loyal. Why would that change now, especially for us?” The words shifted the light in Cresseida’s eyes and she shook her head like she could deny the truth we all heard in Cassian’s statement. The Summer Court would be loyal to their own. Cresseida had no loyalty to us and High Lord Tarquin would find out from her. 

“I keep my word,” she stated firmly, brows furrowing. “I said I would not tell and I will not.” Cresseida, despite being examined by Cassian and Azriel, switched from glancing between Morrigan and I. 

“I believe her,” Morrigan said, looking at me. Now both females were staring at me. Both males angled against them. Neither females begged me to see reason but both looked committed to their side with set jaws and brave expressions. I couldn’t see Morrigan’s magic but her gold eyes shimmered with truth. They were honest and wide. She reminded me of Elain with her face open, feelings bared. 

“This was going to happen,” I accepted. Cassian’s fingers might have crushed mine if I wasn’t fae. He turned away from Cresseida as if he’d lost interest. When our eyes met, I sighed sadly. “We knew this would happen.” I wanted everyone else to leave. Let me be to comfort Cassian’s strained nerves and for him to relax the coil so tightly bound inside me. I didn’t want their lingering eyes, just Cassian’s. His could find me no matter the clouds surrounding my mind. He could see me even when I was lost. I wouldn’t slip from my mind while he watched me. 

“Are you a witch?” Cresseida breathed and restored the previous tension. I knew it was curiosity but that was dangerous when mixed with no sense of self-preservation. 

“What the fuck are you asking that for?” Cassian snapped. His words tinged with annoyance. His hand left mine to rest on his knee, ready to push himself up to face whatever Cresseida threw. 

“She asked a question, Cass, would you stop breathing fire whenever someone looks at Nesta?” Morrigan heaved. “She pours out magic; she is  _ going  _ to be examined.” 

“Not fucking likely if no one knows,” Cassian rose to his feet, going toe-to-toe with Morrigan. Despite their show, their magics were respectively quiet. I kept to my bed, curling my legs underneath me. Even with how damnably hot it felt, I was cooling rapidly and my dress was short-sleeved and a little too low cut for my taste. 

“No one is going to know. Cresseida confirmed as much,” Morrigan gritted out. 

“Sure, until she sees Tarquin and starts tripping over her self-importance,” Cassian swung out a hand, gesturing wildly towards Cresseida. But Cresseida side-stepped Cassian to sit next to me on the bed. Azriel’s presence seemed looming now and I wondered when the Shadowsinger began to consider me as  _ something in need of protecting.  _ Probably ever since Cassian made that assessment for himself. Cassian’s head snapped to the side, watching Cresseida. 

“Were you planning to stay to the Night Court for your entire life?” Cresseida tested. 

“Is that your business?” I replied. 

She pursed her lips. “I’ll take that as a no,” she replied easily. “Once you were so much as  _ smelled  _ by another fae, your secret would have been out.” 

I glanced to my legs, smoothing over my dress appreciatively. “It’s a good thing I don’t like fae.” 

“I’ll say,” Cresseida snorted. Cresseida finally deigned to look up at Cassian and a small smile found its way to her lips. I couldn’t decide who was trying to hold Cassian back and who was trying to block him from reaching Cresseida. Azriel had angled himself and Morrigan as well to face Cresseida and Cassian; the pair of them must have been exhausted with attempting to predict the erratic directions Cassian’s instincts would take him in. Like all emotion, Cassian felt his instincts more intensely than the rest of us did. I could appreciate the intensity in which he felt all things. 

Cassian replied to her smile with a huff. The smell of cedar was still strong in the room; it had died a little but now was positively intoxicating. Scent wasn’t as steadying as touch but I relied on it nonetheless. “Are all Illyirians as feral as you are?” the word struck a chord in me but it was smoothed by the knowledge she was baiting him. Maybe with the smallest hint of sincerity behind the question that had me flicking my eyebrow up at the female. “You’ll want to have that reaction under control. I assume when we return with the Book we will have to explain how the Human Queens came to hand it over,” Cresseida glanced to Morrigan purposefully. 

I had no quick explanation that would suffice. The Human Queens spoke through Feyre, not Morrigan, to the High Lords. It was a miracle they hadn’t already demanded to take over the proceedings by now. Cresseida had a point. Even if she hadn’t made it, I had enough of hiding. 

“I hate this fucking plan of yours, Mor,” Cassian shook his head, puckering his lips. 

“Get in line,” Mor shook her head. She glanced guiltily to her feet. 

“We’ll need to let Elain know as well,” Azriel said to the silent room.

None of us entertained the curiosity in Cresseida’s eyes, nor attempted to meet them. All of us rather die than mention what the third Archeron sister had been  _ gifted _ . I chose to believe Lucien would burn the person alive who attempted to risk Elain’s life; however, something told me he wasn’t so violently inclined. My eyes trailed Cassian’s figure, still poised. Though the way Lucien rose to Elain’s defense previously made me wonder how well I knew the male. 

“So you’re not a witch?” Cresseida asked, staring at her clasped hands in her lap. 

_ I couldn’t help but admire the gall with which she spoke. Toneless or completely heedless that everyone in the room was a  feather’s breath  away from snapping. I huffed. “I wish I was just a witch.” _


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated so it has FOUR parts (Elain, Rhysand, Rhysand, Lucien) and I can't wait for you guys to read. Like literally kill me my excitement is through the roof
> 
> Killing me softly with his song - Fugees   
> amore mio aiutami - pierro picconi 
> 
> Chapter 21 Nesta POV summary:  
> -Nesta sees Feyre brought before Hybern  
> -She sees Feyre kill Brannagh using daemati abilities  
> -She comes back to the 'present' to find Cassian holding the Book of Breathings, has a hard time tearing her eyes from it  
> -Cresseida hears Nesta mention the Cauldron and makes the connection  
> -Cassian has instincts that he's entirely too unprepared to manage  
> -Cresseida vows not to tell anyone about Nesta's abilities

**Elain:**

I’d had several nights where visions woke me well before dawn and my mind wouldn’t quiet. When I was a human, I hated nights like that. Bleary eyed and irritable, I’d tug my nightgown on and stumble my way to the kitchen for water or maybe hot milk if I had the patience. Now that I was a fae, I wasn’t nearly as subject to my exhaustion but I liked the peaceful idea of an uninterrupted night of sleep with my mate. 

I was unsurprised when I woke again, immediately following a vision. I slipped from the bed. My nightly routine began again. Wake. Walk. Write. Lucien always woke and offered to come with me. I could feel how much he wanted to. He was half-asleep, mumbling and still he was already rising from his pillow. 

I wanted to take him up on it but I did my best thinking when I was alone. Helion was unsurprised by this. Just the day before, he’d shown me a room set aside for the Seers when there had been more. It was circular with a large skylight. No candles or torches needed with how the light streamed in and bounced off the thousands of mirrors. The white stone walls weren’t visible behind all the mirrors. I’d asked and Helion had shrugged, saying it came from superstition of keeping the visions _contained._

Seers used to spend days in isolation, waiting for visions while meditating but even the last Seer, Cassius, hadn’t abided by the strange practice. Though they did prefer isolation for their visions, it was not necessary to do so in a room as vast and empty as the one in which we stood. 

At night then I would reflect on my visions. It felt good to stroll around after having my mind travel so far away. It gave me time to reconnect with my senses. I also found Helion often in the gardens. I didn’t mind his company for the brief time. We could speak easily of the flowers and nothing else; the chrysanthemums became our meeting place. I didn’t want to admit how jealous I was that he could somehow keep the flowers in full bloom. It was long since past their season. 

We had the unspoken agreement of not mentioning anything more serious or emotionally-tasking than the gardens. “How have you managed it?” I asked, kneeling in the bed of chrysanthemums to pull a stray weed. The gardeners must have purposefully left it for me to pluck because I didn’t think they’d have made such a mistake otherwise. 

“Hm?” he asked, dozing on a stone bench. 

“The chrysanthemums,” I replied, stroking an orange petal. The next one beside it was yellow. He stared at the flower I was prodding, lips pursed. Helion knew about the flowers in theory but I knew he was not responsible for their upkeep. It was funny I couldn’t imagine him with dirt underneath his fingernails. “How do your gardeners keep them in full bloom?” I asked when he kept silent. 

“They were gifts,” he replied, voice dry. “Long lived blooms are popular.” 

_So it is magic_ , I sighed. How could something so beautiful be produced by something so ugly? “So that is how they keep in full bloom past Autumn.” I stood, careful to pick up the edges of my nightgown and robe so I didn’t decapitate any flowers as I exited the bed. I’d forgone shoes again and my feet were stained. Lucien would have an endless amount of laughter teasing me in the morning. He woke each morning to bed sheets stained with dirt and ink. I did wash my feet and hands but somehow, I’d miss a spot. His complaining, though, was nothing but an exercise for my patience; my messiness prompted more baths together. “The chrysanthemums I had never lasted past the first frost,” I said more to myself than the High Lord. 

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he smiled kindly, eyes glowing unnaturally bright in the dark. The moon was almost new but with Helion, it felt like a full day. 

“I’m not,” I followed up quickly, pursing my lips at him. “I should have known it was magic.” My feet were cold. I was ready to return to the palace but the flowers pulled my attention away. They really did look like the trees in the fall when leaves were just about to turn. Autumn was short-lived. You had a few days to enjoy the brightly colored foliage before it turned brown and cold. It was no wonder a flower that blooms in the autumn is equally short lived. You could blink and miss the entire season. It made the perpetually blooming chrysanthemums sweeter; I could spend all my time watching them and not fear they’d vanish overnight.

Helion rose to escort me back into the palace when I could finally look away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My hair wetted Lucien’s robe but he didn’t mind. It was damp from our earlier bath and now we both smelled strongly of a rose-scented oil. He wanted me to lay against him. After learning common phrases from the different Courts, he had asked me where I go during my night strolls. Since it was no secret, I took him back to the chrysanthemums. He’d judged the grassy patch a good place to rest and I wasn’t going to reject an afternoon spent in his arms gazing at all the flowers. 

I didn’t realize how our presence would affect all the servants. I now could see why Helion chose the night to graze his garden. Gardeners spread out throughout the many tiers of land even though the garden was impeccable and required minimal efforts. But I appreciated their diligence and noted it. They didn’t over prune or over water. It appeared half their position was dedicated to admiring the gardens which was a job I saw immense value in. 

As many denizens of the court used the gardens for their studies, the flowers might feel taken advantage of. 

“How come they stay there?” I asked, nodding to the lower levels of the garden. Usually, from where I could see from within the palace, all tables were occupied by masters and apprentices. Today, we were curiously alone besides for a few I could spot on the levels below. 

“Because we are here,” Lucien replied, following my gaze. His hand was absently stroking the hair on my arm, rising gooseflesh from my skin and sending shivers down my spine. “They’ll assume you’re having a vision and desire privacy.” 

“I thought only the people within the palace knew,” I frowned. 

“They are from within the palace.” 

“ _All_?” 

He laughed, breath skirting over my ear and sending my hair around me. “The Day Court has the widest collection of knowledge. As such, it’s where anyone goes to train if they want to become a master.” 

“And when they leave?” 

He frowned, stiffening from underneath me. “They will tell no one. Anyone here has been warded against that.” I recalled his statement that warding a fae was considered dangerous. He obviously disagreed with Helion’s practice of it but resisted criticising the High Lord since it ultimately protected me. 

I didn’t want to ask my next question but guilt was a nasty emotion that demanded to be fed. “Why is it dangerous to ward a fae?” 

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. His magic quietly moved about me in soothing waves. It had been a long time since I relied on his magic to keep my visions at bay but I still liked the sensation. Almost as if it was summer and a warm breeze was ghosting my skin. Or maybe like a hug. 

“Fae without magic tend to be subject to warding without any side effects,” he began. “But fae with magic find it much harder. The ward interacts and produces unintended consequences.” 

“Unintended consequences?” 

“That is usually specific to the ward; it isn’t a guarantee that any reaction will happen but normally when they do, they’re terrible,” I took it he spoke from personal experience. I knew about Amarantha but he never elaborated on what it had been like to be under her wards. He’d mentioned the fox mask. I knew that Feyre’s second trial used him as bait. Everything after that, all the gruesome brutality, was glossed over. He was reluctant to speak on it as he claimed that because of his location in the Spring Court, he’d been spared the full fifty years Under the Mountain. I knew my mate well enough to not believe that was entirely true and he said so for my benefit. 

I stilled my nerves, willing confidence into my veins. “I think Helion should tell the High Lords that I am a Seer.” 

Silence. 

Lucien’s grip on me was enough of a response anyway. When he spoke, his voice was still and low. His mouth was pressed to my ear. “Elain, any who enter the Day Court know they are going to be warded. They accepted the risks-” 

“That isn’t why,” I shook my head, looking back at my mate. He studied me. “If I’m ever going to influence this war, I’ll need to have a voice beyond the Day Court. Besides, it doesn’t stand to reason why we are here.” 

His brows furrowed but he didn’t reject my reasoning. “What do you mean?” 

“You know,” I insisted. “It only would make sense for me to remain in the Night Court where my sister is,” I almost said _sisters_ , plural, but caught myself. I had to remind myself of what was and what was yet to come. “But if I am a Seer, we can remain in the Day Court unquestioned.” 

“Love,” Lucien began sadly. “You do not have to defend our place here. My parentage isn’t a burden for you to solve.” 

“It isn’t a burden at all.” 

He smiled briefly. “I can figure that out—” 

“I’ve already found a solution. You’ve said it yourself. The Day Court is the home of Seers.” 

He raised a brow. “Then how would we explain my presence? Maybe Rhysand could admit that I’m here to watch over you—” 

“You’re my mate,” I declared, finding myself annoyed I had to state it like it was up for a debate. I stared him down while his expressions changed so rapidly, I caught only half of them. There were no limits to the mating bond. We were and that was reality. There could be no breaking of it or mistakes or judgement because it was a universal truth. 

“Elain, that puts you in danger,” he kissed my forehead. 

“While this war continues, we all are in danger,” I replied. I didn’t want to tell him that was more true than he realized. We couldn’t stay in the Day Court much longer. Change needed to happen and it wouldn’t happen from the safety of these beautiful gardens. When the High Lords reconvened in a day, Helion would announce that I was a Seer. Nesta was already accepting that our life in isolation was coming to an end. We would be rejoining the war front. Unfortunately, I didn’t think my mate would much enjoy the tasks set ahead of us but I’d already started and there was no stopping now.

**Rhysand:**

My first day back to the war camps and Cass, Az and Mor had all insisted on standing at my back for the High Lord’s meeting. They meant to come across as supportive, comforting. It made me want to vomit if they believed I needed my hand held. Not because of how much they cared for me but because how worried they were for the meeting to take place. I thought I had enough to worry after. 

_Perhaps I shouldn’t have come back today_ , I sighed even though I knew it was useless to debate returning to Velaris. 

Half a day prior, I had just been with my mate, speaking with her and learning every detail she offered me. After a week of silence and I finally had answers. We’d spoken softly to each other for hours about nothing sensical or practical. I had millions of questions before and they all seemed irrelevant now that my mate was before me. I didn’t need to know every detail of her confinement when I could assure myself of the steady rhythm of her heart and feel her magic pulsing too. Somethings only needed to be felt. 

She’d asked about N’simura, more so how our family fared. I had to drag my tongue from the roof of my mouth to speak. The admissions seemed worse the longer I spoke. _I attempted to goad Lucien into a fight. I let Elain think I was angry with her. Elain and Lucien are in the Day Court now. Nesta posed as you in the Human Realm. Amren took over as High Lord for a time. Az, Cass and Mor watch me incessantly like I might vanish at any moment. Cresseida knows Nesta’s magic is drawn from the Cauldron. Your sisters are going to be revealed as fae at the next meeting._

I forced myself to keep speaking. I knew I could have withheld some of it if only to ease her pain but I felt forced to speak the truth and nothing less. Omission would be lying and I wouldn’t insult Feyre like that. Her breathing would hitch or she’d cough. When I hesitated, she insisted I continue. It was difficult for her to hear; I didn’t think there was a torture alive Hybern could concoct that would match me disappointing my mate.

_I failed to watch over our family._

Feyre sniffled and huffed until her tears receded. When she finished, she forgave me. In soft words plied with care and concern, she insisted that she wouldn’t have done any better. She knew it was only a matter of time before Nesta and Elain would rejoin the world though it made her sad. She began to speak on Nesta, posing as her, but she cried too hard. Her words and thoughts were muffled by memories and the bruises barely healed, both surface-level and beneath the skin. 

She asked me to protect them as best I could and that was the end to all serious conversation. I stayed with her until the sound of an unlocking door drew her attention. She said I needed to leave. 

My talons immediately held fast to the doors of her mind. _No_ was all my instincts would say. _No leaving._ I wanted to be with her. In her mind, I could see her scarred left arm and the bruises that littered her body. I could feel the chill dungeon air that left gooseflesh across her bare torso. Her headache that swallowed her whole was mine to share. I relearned my mate from her pinkie toe, bent at an odd angle, to the tears in her ears shorn to appear human. There were no secrets and whatever awaited her, I could be there for her. Rigor mortis had seized my body; I refused to budge. I needed to wrap my body around her and keep her safe. 

Feyre’s mind relaxed. _Please do not stay,_ she asked. Her voice quieted by the sober knowledge that the approaching footsteps were for her. _I do not want you to watch_. 

Her gentle admission eased my tension. It had to be this way. I could barely keep myself from studying her wounds too closely. Obsessively, my mind repeated the same motions of attempting to protect her and knowing I was failing. To experience her torture first-hand would erase any resolve I had. Remaining in her mind, I could become the danger and we both knew it. It was what Hybern wanted. 

That didn’t make stepping away and feeling the gates to her mind shut from me any easier. She’d become impressive with the strength of her mental walls. I couldn’t feel pride in that though. Not when she had to be tortured to become stronger. 

But after seeing her, I could absorb her confidence. She was determined to escape and that Hybern did not receive any edge. I wouldn’t fail her now. 

Returning to our shared tent had been the first test to my resolve. The tightly held breath in my chest didn’t ease no matter the time I spent inside. It wasn’t getting any easier though my family attempted to console, dragging out dried fruit and placing new maps on the table. None of their efforts helped since my sadistic tendencies had me sniffing the air for the stale scent of lilac. I didn’t find it but I imagined it anyway. 

We slowly fell into an uncomfortable rhythm we all had been out of practice from—the planning phase without Feyre. We’d been tightly knit before and she’d woven herself in subtly until none of us realizing. Now that she was gone, we were finding the frayed portions where we would unravel if we didn’t act fast. It started awkwardly but assuredly, Az began to resummarize that Cresseida would return to Tarquin to inform him about our successful retrieval of the Book of Breathings. All eyes darted to Cassian; not only because Cassian had made his opinion of Cresseida clear but also because he was currently in possession of the Book. 

Another odd part of waking was rejoining the current obstacles my Court faced: Cassian was the only occupant who could handle the Book. Mor, Az and Cresseida all declared that they attempted and holding the Book made their ears bleed literally. Cresseida, who could handle the Book from her own Court, took special offense to it’s selectivity. I’d asked if Nesta had tried but she refused and offered nothing more on the subject.

I found this to be a positive obstacle. If only select people could handle the Book, then only select people would have access to Nesta. I enjoyed the idea of all the walls I could build between Nesta and the remainder of Prythian, for both their sakes of course. Nesta had stepped into Feyre’s role without complaint. She’d never offered up an explanation. She only silently, dedicatedly, ensured Feyre’s sacrifice didn’t destroy her efforts. I had no reason for why Nesta felt personally compelled to do so when we could have found another way other than she wanted this war to be over too. Which, upon second reflection, seemed too vague to explain the quiet Human-Made-Fae. After spending an evening watching her verbally battle the Human Queen’s, the many layers of complexity she contained made me promise another inspection when we returned to Velaris. 

I also found it a blissful change that Cassian be the one who could hold the Book. He simply shrugged and declared himself deaf to what everyone else claimed they could hear from across oceans. Nesta’s non-objection to this had me snort. 

The upcoming High Lord’s meeting was looking up. This change of events would streamline decisions. It only left the topic of Nesta and Elain’s _faeness_ and moving the war camp to handle. 

I thought I was doing a decent job of holding my shit together. It’d been several hours since we returned to Prythian and we already had a brighter day. Nesta was safe in Velaris. My family was near to me in the war camps. Feyre would escape in the week. I could breathe. 

Until Helion walked through the tent flaps, looming in the entrance and wrecking all my thoughts on a peaceful day. He was dressed in a normal white robe and held his golden spear aloft. I found it odd he had it present at all. He usually only summoned the staff when he wanted to remind others he could be equally threatening, like in the High Lord’s meetings. Or when Beron spoke. He searched the tent and laid golden eyes on me, smiling tightly till my heart ached. I supposed I’d never get used to the reaction until Feyre was back. “I’d heard you returned.” 

I rose to greet him. His eyes tracked my movement, likely debating if I meant to strangle him or not. “I couldn’t stay away for too long, we’d lose,” I offered a half-smile. Call it _my attempt at not punching the High Lord._ Helion wasn’t to blame and neither was Tarquin but the sight of his ease made me keenly aware of my own unease. For that, I resented the male in my selfish way. We clasped arms. The eyes of my family following our interaction with nervous, skittish faces. He didn’t release my forearm immediately. 

The reason why became clear. Lucien stepped through the tent flap to stand at Helion’s right. “Where’s Elain?” the words were out before I even thought them myself. 

“Safe, Day Court,” Lucien replied, eyeing Helion and I’d clasped arms. Helion’s fingers dug in tighter to my muscle. I wanted to drag Lucien close until I could see every gear of his mechanical eye and then impress upon him how irresponsible it is to leave Elain’s side in whatever way I deemed fit. I had no room to judge but that made my warnings more dire. “She’s safe,” he reaffirmed when I remained frozen. 

“What are you doing _here_ then?” Cassian asked, cocking his head. He was balancing on the hind legs of his stool. His hands held the Book in his lap loosely. Dressed head to toe in full plate, the Book looked miniscule in Cassian’s hold. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Helion asked, eyes glowing but he still didn’t relinquish my arm so I didn’t give into his curiosity. 

“Why are you here?” I echoed Cass.

“After speaking with Elain, we will be announcing her as a Seer,” Helion stated, watching my face. I didn’t care that my magic undamped. It filled the room and undoubtedly, everyone began to see things they never wanted to. Mor made a sound of discomfort. The room was overpowered by citrus, enough to sting open cuts. My eyes trained on the High Lord of Days and I let the full weight of his fear terrorize him in that moment. When his hand, tightly locked on my arm, began to feel as if he held to me instead of holding onto me, I relaxed. 

I sucked in a calming breath. “And Elain wants this?” I dared a glance at Lucien. His back was straight and rigid but his eyes were squinted. 

“She suggested it, Rhysand,” Lucien dipped his head, lips tight. “Would you take back your magic now?” 

“It’s alright, Lucien. It was a long-time coming,” Helion replied, doing his best to smile but his eyes remained dim. “We thought we’d warn you.” I didn’t miss the use of _we._ Helion was testing all my newly minted instincts liberally then. Elain, as a Seer, would be afforded all the loyalties of the Day Court and their protection as well. But she was still Feyre’s sister and that meant she was equally entitled to the Night Court’s too. As I had just promised Feyre I would protect Elain and Nesta, I planned to do so just as much as Helion did. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That makes, admittedly, no sense,” Helion surmised. All High Lords tilted their heads in agreement. Tamlin’s chair sat empty; another uncomfortable reminder that pained me. His absence at the cost of my mate gave me no satisfaction. 

I’d just revealed Cassian as being the sole possessor of the Book. To say the High Lords were surprised that my bastard-born, Illyrian General could handle the Book when everyone else failed was an understatement. They all were re-inspecting Cassian who kept his face in a permanent scowl that was not completely a mask. He held the Book tightly this time, none of his relaxed confidence following him into the tent. Most of the High Lords only knew Cassian by the body count he left on the battle field. I surmised they were now wondering how well that deadly prowress would translate. “You’re all welcome to attempt to hold it yourselves but the consequence is painful,” I warned them, leaning back in my chair. 

Each time my will faltered, I reminded myself that Feyre was alive. She was going to escape. I needed to move forward. 

My eyes flicked around the room. “No takers?” I admitted to myself I was far more playful than I thought I could be but it came from a cynical piece inside me. I didn't care what they thought of me and I couldn't spend effort attempting to gain their approval. Not while we had a war to win and my mate hanging in the balance. 

“I suppose that means only Varian or Cresseida or myself could handle our side of the Book,” Tarquin frowned. He'd met eyes when I entered the High Lord's tent and continued to stare me down without hesistation. “I wonder what will happen when the pieces reunite.” 

“We should all get in line then to determine who shall be librarian,” Beron scoffed. Helion’s eyes cut across the room. Lucien’s as well. Both males mirrored one another’s expressions. Anyone with half a brain should have been able to see the resemblance in that moment but that excluded Beron. 

“Rhysand’s Second declared you be investigated; your Court need not attempt to handle the Book,” Kallias frowned at Beron. They exchanged looks. Beron’s were rage-filled. Kallias, cold-reserve before sighing and looking back to the table already bored from the exchange. “The Book should be kept with it’s handlers. Unfortunately, Rhysand, your General will need to be sequestered Under the Mountain until further notice.” 

I bit my cheek. _Fuck_. That was not what I had intended when Cassian revealed he could handle the Book. I’d protected my Court from Under the Mountain, from Amarantha and somehow they were returning. The majority of the space had been destroyed following Amarantha's death and the lifting of the curse. But that didn't matter. Not to my court who would now walk the halls, seeing the same ones I'd walked for fifty years. 

“Of course,” I dipped my head. 

“And how _did_ you retrieve the Book from the Human Queen’s then?” Beron’s eyes lightened. “It was your mate after all that...worked with the humans.” My hands tightened but I kept them to my lap. He paused over his choice of words, like Feyre's involvement with the Human Queens was of debateable quality. 

“Feyre’s sister is a very convincing actress,” I replied with all my will focused on appearing unconcerned. I couldn’t release my magic everytime my instincts were riled. Guilt was already eating at me for letting it go without care before. Eyes followed me, squinting as they began to piece together the truth. I tightened my hands, forcing iron will into my muscles. I lifted my chin, licking my lips, “When Hybern ambushed the refugee camp, he not only took Lucien captive but all of the humans. Feyre’s sisters were included. They were Made.”

I received silent gapes and wide eyes. 

“And you chose to keep this quiet?” Thesan asked, the only besides Helion, to appear unshocked. Tarquin was too tense for him to have known before. Cresseida must have kept true to her word. I felt a pang of regret. 

Thesan’s question wasn’t meant to come off as accusatory. Quite the opposite, Thesan gave me an opportunity, lending me his hand by letting me state my intentions clearly. I could justify my actions now and everyone would listen. I flashed him an appreciative glance. “As Feyre’s mate and under the Code of Mates, I am at liberty to decide how I protect her family.” 

“Can we expect to meet these two fae then?” Kallias asked, staring at me with an unnatural stillness only someone with ice in their veins would possess. 

“Maybe,” I shrugged. 

“And their magic?” Tarquin asked, lips pursed. 

“Unconfirmed.” 

“Well confirm it,” Beron snapped. "We could use-" 

“That…” Helion drawled, “has already been done,” he looked to me like he was about to inform me as well. I kept gnawing on the inside of my cheek. I would dissolve into hysterical laughter or start screaming. All these plots and deceptions were taking their toll. It was good timing too that Helion interrupted Beron and not at all accidental. I heard Cassian shift and wondered if I would attempt to hold him back. Whatever Beron had been about to say would surely deserve whatever Cassian would deliver. Helion glanced back at the room and leaned far back in his seat. “Elain is a Seer.”

**Rhysand:**

I had to force some type of visible shock into my body to play along. I went for the furrowed brows look and called it a day. Part of me still glanced at Lucien, waiting to see him realize the mistake but he was determined. 

There was a significantly different reaction to Elain’s reveal to being a Seer as compared to Nesta and Elain being fae. Being Made fae, I grumbled bitterly, had lost it’s luster after three fae had already been Made.  _ Was no one willing to see all three were Archerons?  _ I kept chewing my cheek.  _ Did no one recognize two had mates?  _ Only High Lord Thesan and Kallias had mates which seemed significantly less important when none of them were related. Elain and Feyre were sisters. The likelihood of that occurring seemed astronomically low. What bothered me was how, knowing those odds, I still believed Nesta had a mate. The thought terrified me. As I surveyed the table, my hairs began to stick straight up. Two sisters had mates they loved. Would it be so unlikely for Nesta to draw the short end and be mated to someone she detested? 

A piece of me kept whispering  _ I told you so I told you so _ over and over. Nesta should never have left Velaris even though there was no reason nor way to stop her. But I still faced the fear that if Nesta was mates with one of these detestables, I’d be made a liar to my mate or have to break the Code of the Fae. 

The longer I sat, the more the likelihood became an inevitability. Nesta might have a mate among us and I resented all the choices. I swallowed, promising I’d not allow the Code of the Fae to be used against her. Not like it had been against my mother. She was born human. She was Made fae. She was connected to the Cauldron. If anyone deserved to be the exception to all the rules, it was Nesta. 

“Are you sure?” Kallias asked, eyebrows high. His hands held the table with thinly contained interest, frost forming just around his pale fingers. 

“Do not insult me, Kallias,” Helion flashed his eyes, nonchalance vanishing. 

“Did you know?” Beron spat towards me. “Keeping a Seer locked away in the Night Court for...months.” 

It was with ease my features relaxed and I lied to the High Lord of Autumn. Vindictive, satisfying pleasure of lying to someone I absolutely hated was arguably the best part of my day. “I only just received this information myself, Beron,” I replied. “Recognizing the signs isn’t exactly a speciality.” 

He scoffed. 

“Fate is odd and slippery in this war,” Tarquin breathed out. He regarded the table questioningly, like he could see the pieces falling together. 

“Fate?” I echoed, shaking my head. Tarquin’s eyes widened incrementally at what he had let slip. If  _ fate  _ was at work in this war, it was laughing at us now. Fate made our victories with retrieving both pieces of the Book appear dismal. I couldn’t subscribe to there being a predetermined path we all walked. I had to believe we made our own futures or else this all would feel futile. I might as well give up and let fate take over. Why struggle if this was all just meant to happen? 

Tarquin dipped his head in an awkward apology and I accepted it until further notice. 

“Then why are  _ you  _ here?” Beron pointed a long, gnarled finger at Lucien. It was hard imagining what a childhood would have been like in the Autumn Court. I hadn’t seen Lady Juliette since Under the Mountain. Beron's sons were normally absent. That left the High Lord as my only real idea of the Court and it was not a kind one. 

Helion cocked his head, squinting at Beron. He held his spear lazily at his side, twirling it gracefully. The fact I’d personally seen multiple bodies skewered like pieces of meat on the spear made me a little nervous at how close the spear came to Lucien. Lucien was unphased. I debated if the High Lord was waiting for me to say something but if they had needed my cooperation, they would have asked before. This was a plot they’d concocted on their own. I brightened at that. Helion smiled then. Blindingly white teeth on full display like he’d heard this joke before. 

But then he turned his head and glanced to Lucien, just behind him. “Lucien, care to explain?” 

Lucien nodded dutifully, which he pulled off so well in his Day Court robes. He wore them so naturally I barely recognized them at first sight. He didn’t share Helion’s favoritism of white but wore a brown the color of clay with red undertones. The shirt was close enough to a tunic except for the sleeves cut at the shoulders and gaping arm sleeves to view his sides. He even adopted the Day Court skirt, falling just to his knees. I wanted to think he’d had a personal hand in selecting his robes, just so the insult was that much more severe to Beron. Knowing Lucien, he wouldn’t have cared. 

_ Or maybe… _

Lucien tilted his head, much like Helion had a moment before, and his copper hair flickered in the candlelight. “Elain is my mate.” The insult was complete when he adopted the same joking smile Helion had on a moment before. Us remaining High Lords glanced between the two with mixed levels of shock and enjoyment, or in Thesan’s case, alarm. 

Beron’s sickly pallor contrasted how dark his eyes turned. They were molten steel against Lucien's. The High Lords might see the insult as Lucien dismissing Beron; I saw it quite differently. In a quiet way, Lucien revealed his awareness to his parentage and how every strike against him was against Helion for his transgressions. Like salt to the wound, Lucien’s copper hair struck the light again. “And will this  _ Seer _ ,” he said the word like it was meant to be derogatory, “be joining us in this war? I remember the last Seer...Cassius, was it? I remember how well it ended for him,” Beron’s eyes gleamed like two burning embers intent on bringing the entire forest down. 

_ Cassius _ , the name rang around in my head. I hadn’t heard it in a while. Cassius was supposedly Helion’s lover in the war but now, after knowing that Helion had an affair with Lady Juliette, I wondered how true that was. The Day Court was, after all, traditionally ploygamous but Lady Juliette was from the Autumn Court. The Autumn Court High Fae didn’t permit sexual freedom of any kind; all marriages were arranged and the males and females kept to separate courts. After coming from that background, it was difficult to imagine the Lady being as open. 

Helion rolled his eyes. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“How is there a choice?” Kallias asked, squinting. “We need all the help we can get.” 

Helion looked to me.  _ Ah. My cue.  _ “Elain has not sworn fealty to the Day Court,” the words felt warm like liquor rolling off my tongue. I didn’t have anything against the Day Court but I wanted to think Elain hadn’t run from the Night Court either.  _ I hoped _ . “She is still under my protection.” 

“Then  _ you _ tell her to come to the war camps,” Kallias sniffed. 

“Rhysand, she’s an  _ advantage _ ,” Tarquin prompted. 

“And what an advantage an untrained Seer is,” I glared Tarquin into silence. “When she is trained, she will come and not a moment before.” Beron’s thoughts floated before me like fog behind stained glass. They were just beyond my reach. I could sneak through his mental walls and take them, but of course he’d know and that’d breed more issues. But the temptation was there. 

“And what of the other?” Thesan asked. 

“Other?” Kallias retorted. 

“There is a  _ third  _ sister, is there not?” Thesan shrugged but he didn’t wear nonchalance as readily as Helion did. His attempt at feigned indifference failed. Those eyes burned too brightly. I would have felt Nesta threatened had I not already known Thesan’s mate was his peregryn General. He looked to Cresseida. “You met her in the Human Realm.”

Cresseida lifted a white eyebrow. “I did.” Varian was glancing more and more at his twin. She’d kept her word sure enough and I had no doubt her Court was sensing that division in her loyalty right now. 

“Well don’t rush on our accounts,” Kallias prompted. I felt my family grow tenser as the moments dragged on. The last few days were clear in our heads and Cresseida’s oath was becoming more distant with the growing silence. 

“Careful,” Tarquin snapped, causing several heads around the table to recoil, including my own. Ice in his eyes but now I was beginning to see the heat in those veins. 

“She’s fae,” Cresseida shrugged. Cassian wasn’t so unpracticed as to breathe a sigh of relief but he shifted his footing.

“And you didn’t think to tell  _ anyone _ that she was fae?” Beron asked. 

“She’s telling you now,” Tarquin raised his hand to silence Cresseida’s response, taking the full weight of Beron’s wrath himself. “And while you are in my Court you will refrain from your usual vulgarities.” 

“I’ve been fighting your war, boy,” Beron hissed and the humidity in the room turned to steam. 

“That’s an easy claim to make as your territory is opposite from Hybern’s ships while my people were savaged.” 

“Enough,” Thesan interceded, fixing either with a stare. His usual silence during these meetings offered him a special high standing. As well as the fact his services in the war were invaluable. Thesan’s healers had ensured our legions barely saw casualties. Anyone who could make it to a healers tent would live and only a few that were healed on the battlefield ever died. If Thesan made demands, we had no choice but to follow them. The Night Court, I begrudgingly admitted, had a few accomplished healers but we would suffer without the Dawn Court. “We have more to attend to. Whenever the Seer finishes her training, we will hear her out. We need to decide now how we shall move the war camp.”

Kallias jumped on it. “My tacticians have advised we split and retake the Summer Court in full before marching further south.” 

“Why split if we need only march west?” Beron snorted. 

“To keep the Spring Court defense and push whatever remains of Hybern’s armies back to the ocean,” Tarquin shook his head like Beron should have seen the obvious. In a way, it was obvious. If we marched west and left our southern border open, Hybern would cut our armies off from the continent and kill us from both sides. Tarquin voiced what had come to my mind. “One force tasked with retaking the N’simura. The other will head north.” 

“North where?” Kallias asked. 

Tarquin laughed. “Not to the Winter Court, Kallias. Your Court will remain undefiled. No, to the Relaran Pass. Through there, Adriata is accessible. We can reclaim the city.” It was no wonder the High Lord’s mood shifted. An end was in sight for him. We had the Books and a plan; Tarquin took what he could after so much failure. 

“The Night Court’s Illyrian’s will fight more effectively in the mountains. We’ll go to the Relaran Pass,” I shifted in my seat to move my pieces on the map before us. For so long, the black crescent moon pieces have been seated in the northeast corner of the Summer Court. Only now I was just shifting them to the west. 

“We shall take the N’simura,” Beron pulled his red leaf pieces south, opposite to me.  _ Good riddance.  _ It went without saying that the Summer Court would also reclaim the N’simura; Tarquin shifted the blue seashells to sit next to Beron’s.  _ Lucky fae.  _

Kallias wordlessly put his white snowflake pieces with mine in the Relaran Pass. “As my main task will be warding the Books, it would be easiest if my legions remained in the north,” Helion explained, moving the yellow suns to the Relaran Pass as well. Thesan split his equally between the two; he had no choice. Neither of us would be willing to part entirely from the Dawn Court healers. 

No one moved even though the meeting had actually come to a gracious end. That was my mistake. “I think it prudent we revisit the topic of the third sister,” Beron said loftily, sitting back in his seat. He looked into the air like he could hear the Mother’s directions. “Tarquin said it himself. Fate has touched their family. I’m not convinced she goes without magic and powerful magic too. She was Made.” 

“Cresseida would have reported as such,” Tarquin dismissed the notion. 

“She doesn’t have the final say.” 

“No,” I cut in. “I do,” my eyes lit on Beron’s. I’d had enough of his prodding, his jeering. My patience only went so far and I never thought I was too patient to begin with. Nesta and Elain were still under my protection and beyond his rebuke. 

Beron shook his head,  _ tsking _ and only stopped when he leaned forward onto the table which creaked loudly. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I wonder if the Code of Fae still applies when one mate is dead. We haven’t heard any proof of life.” 

The floor fell from my feet. My stomach was dragged out of my body. A hard yanking on my lungs before that dark hand reached out and snatched at my still-beating heart. Roaring in my ears drowned out shouting. My vision narrowed to a single point of the table. I couldn’t feel anything but the ice creeping into my veins. Everything was gone and for a moment, I was alone with the blackness. 

A hand on my shoulder startled me. I nearly jumped at the touch. “Cousin,” Mor breathed, voice hitched. I followed her gaze and everyone else’s. Beron made a choking noise, eyes twitching and filled with black smoke from my magic. Kallias was visibly recoiling from the sight. Only when I came around did I call back my magic from the pain it filled him with. My illusions combined with my daemati abilities let me source out a fae’s fears and I found Beron’s with ease. 

I began to speak even though I hadn’t yet caught my breath either. “I’ve heard of what my Second has accused you of. That you are possibly the traitor among us,” I said hoarsely. Beron spat on the table, chest heaving. The rest of the High Lords didn’t dare breathe. Beron should have known better than to goad me. Feyre wasn’t by my side and I had no promise that she’d ever return. He thought himself untouchable but I gladly took it upon myself to remind him that we sat at the same table by choice. I could just as easily gut him as shake his hand. “You better pray to the Mother that we retrieve Feyre...as you can see I have very little care for the rules without her.” 

**Lucien:**

I turned the letter over in my hand with distaste. Returning to Elain, I intended to spend the remainder of the day with her and pretend I’d not witnessed something terrible today. But she’d had a letter for me to deliver. She greeted me with a chaste kiss to my cheek and held my hands softly cupped in her own. Her eyes were wide, round, when they lifted to meet mine. Honeysuckle and salty tears hung on her scent. Filled with sadness and apologies as I glanced down and read the name elegantly scrawled on the cover. 

And my shoulders fell a little. Possibly the last person I wished to ever see but I made a promise. My mate needed me and she didn’t decide how her visions played out. Or how cruel they would be to us. 

I promised I would make it quick and I’d return hoping she was somewhere we could be alone. I needed that comfort where only the glowing mating bond kept us company. When our hearts synced to each other’s, breaths matched and the rest of the world fell away. It was the promise to never be alone or apart. We’d always have one another. 

So I made no fuss about winnowing directly to my destination. I stepped through the feeble wards meant to keep intruders out, annoyed to find out that Elain’s chosen target hadn’t been in residence. I didn’t care if they saw my Day Court abilities; I practically had the guarantee of their silence. The tent was empty and dim save for the candles, steadily burning with the scent of something vaguely lemon or citrus. 

I thankfully didn’t have to wait long. 

Eris stepped through the tent flap and stopped, bright daylight streaming in to nearly blind me. My eyes adjusted quickly to the new source of light. “Leave me,” he called over his shoulder. His words crisp and final ensured no debating. From the grumbles, I guessed one of my brothers was at his tails. I hoped it wasn’t Jules as I would have rather privacy but Eris seemed to wish the same as well. His eyes glowed red with the sun at his back, steam hissing from his shoulders. 

He stepped into the tent, erecting the sound barrier as he moved. In the next moment, all candles were burning bright with flames the height of my forearm. The room steadily filled with smoky haze. He crossed to his table where he uncorked a wine bottle, pouring himself a full glass. He sniffed before sipping. “You’ve caused enough shit for me today,” he breathed.

I hated being in the presence of my brothers. Even before Jes. It felt as if they were one step ahead but it hadn’t been that really. They were willing to be cruel and always had that added edge. My magic had grown since then so I kept my shoulders drawn and hand resting confidently on the pommel of my sword.

He turned to take me in, eyeing my Day Court robes of deep clay along with the two braids of mastery hanging from my temples. “Now you even wear servant colors,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “Once a bastard, always a bastard I suppose,” he waved his wine glass in the air to my apparel. In the Autumn Court, only the High Fae were allowed to wear the Primary Colors of Fall: Red, Orange and Yellow. Lowborn fae could wear any color they wished but servants in the Houses of the High Fae were required to wear browns like I did now. 

I ignored his jeers without blinking. A foregin emotion welled inside me when I looked at Eris now.  _ Pity.  _ “I am here to deliver this to you,” I tossed the letter before him. 

He swiped it up instantly, bringing it to his nose. Eris had one braid. His eyes lit. “Your Seer mate saw it fit to grace me with her wisdom." Of course he would have heard by now. He undoubtedly just came from a meeting with Beron about the High Lord’s meeting. I forced my jaw to unclench and fists to ease. I wouldn’t be riled. Not by him. Even if he wasn’t remotely deserving to even scent her off the paper. “What? Telling me I’ll die tomorrow?” he flashed a wicked smile. 

“Figure it out,” I stepped away to winnow. I’d spent too much time away from her. 

“It’s a riddle,” he unfolded the letter, squinting hard at the paper. “And a poor one too. How the fuck am I to know what any of this gibberish means?” he slapped the paper down. I did my best not to seek out my mate’s beautiful script. It was better if I didn’t see. 

I shrugged, an easy smile coming to me as I turned to face my eldest brother. “Guess you’ll find out tomorrow,” I predicted, winnowing before he could respond.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...I'd die for Nesta and she might die for us 💁♀️
> 
> Keep the Streets Empty for Me - Fever Ray

**Nesta:**

Cassian would arrive any minute but my feet refused to move towards the door. I was committed now. A fine dusting of snow littered Amren’s apartment floor from the several windows I accidentally shattered. Amren stood in the center of the wreckage with her arms crossed over her chest in a smug way of telling me I’d proven her point. Not a single hair on her arm was raised in answer to the frigid wind. I might have magic in my veins but only when I consciously used it did the temperature around me fall away. Amren seemed impervious to all senses. And feelings. 

Her lips were pursed. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak. 

“No.” 

“This is not about you girl,” Amren hissed back. Her short cut hair jerked around. “About what you want for yourself. You can’t be selfish.” 

“I’ve made my decision. It is a reasonable use of my time.” 

“Reasonable use? It’s inviting chaos,” she scoffed. “Your efforts should be focused on the Book and training. Not running around playing fae with your Illyrian pup,” each word was a drop of acid, cutting through my skin and eating it’s way to my bones. “Do not pretend this has nothing to do with him either. You’re making girlish decisions. This is why you should never have received the Cauldron’s blessing. You’re too damnably young. A toddler with an axe.” 

“Blessing?” I ground out. Amren had the forethought to look slightly chastised. Another window shattered somewhere behind me as if the Cauldron itself was reminding the two of us to it’s presence. It didn’t have to remind me. If I wasn’t focusing on my training or actively attempting another task, my mind slipped back to the Cauldron like a dog to it’s owner. I was feeling the strain of being separated and this would bring me one step closer to it. “It is no such thing. I cannot  _ read  _ the Book and I won’t try to. If the Cauldron doesn’t kill me then the Book will. This is my best attempt at closing the distance between the Cauldron and I.”

“I’ve already told you, girl. Now it is not about physical distance. It’s been too long. You must transfer your magic to the Cauldron and only then will the Cauldron stop pulling you towards it. Moving closer won’t ease this,” she shook her head, worry creasing her brows. The emotion was swept away in a look of annoyance. She would have known how difficult this would be for me. “Even then, you are bound for life.” 

“You told me it would be better when I released the Cauldron’s magic back to it,” I straightened. 

“I’ve told you before,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You have heard what you wanted to hear yet again. When will you listen to me?” 

“When you stop telling me half-truths.” 

Her eyes flashed white. “Half-truths? I have told you everything I have gathered since I was formed from the earth you  _ stand on _ ,” her voice grew into a dull roar. “Yet you waste my time by dedicating your ability elsewhere. Your potential is better spent in training...as you haven’t even mastered your own magic.” 

She was right. My control was absolute but my ability to apply what she has taught was limited. I could manifest and destroy somewhat readily but raw magic was unattainable to me, even with all my sizeable control. I needed the Cauldron for that. Either to relieve the stress my body was under or help me manage the raw magic. “I’ve done enough,” I said, suddenly exhausted. I needed to sleep. I’d already slept most of the day away since I spent the past few days without it but I still was exhausted. Only when Rhysand had confirmed he’d spoken with Feyre had my mind allowed me to rest. My eyelids felt heavy and I apparently had a long night to look forward to.

She shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was low. “Transferring your magic requires control beyond what you possess now.” 

“And what would happen if I couldn’t?” 

Those cloud-like eyes flattened with sobriety. “It could kill you or drive you insane and then kill you.”  _ Either way, what bliss _ , I hmpfed. 

“I’ll still train but my mind is made up; I’ll be joining them at the Relaran Pass,” I stated, walking to the top of the stairs. Lucien would have to be better at making my next ward. No more magic could leak from me without me noticing.

Amren watched me leave without any more argument. She wouldn’t understand. She thought my decision was because my heart told me without Cassian I’d die. That my love for him was overruling my more logical side and it was partially my fault for not correcting her. She didn’t understand my body and mind said the same thing as well. Cassian was steadying me without realizing it. Like an anchor, I could be tossed about on the waves and never drift too far away. The Cauldron was steadily winning and dragging me further away but staying with Cassian delayed it. I did not speak of these things. 

Alis met me at the landing and passed me my cloak wordlessly. Bron stood in the doorway, watching me. The two had observed enough of what I could do to understand that staying a healthy distance from me was advisable. Bron listened to this but Alis came close irregardless. I told myself I did not care as I shrugged on my cloak to brave the cold. 

When I opened the door, Cassian stood there. All his hair floated about him with the snowflakes. He still wore his armor. Snow melted on him where it touched. Cedar-scented magic coated my nose, even my tongue. His eyes revealed nothing but pleasure at seeing me despite the sweat that coated my brow and stray hairs falling from my braid. The cold winds blew through me but Cassian’s warmth had already found me. I was comfortable. “Ready?” he asked. 

I dipped my head in agreement before he swept me up into the skies. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was so foggy, I could hardly see let alone breathe. I sucked in deeper. The stone walls were dripping with condensation. Cassian’s bathing room was silent save for the drip of water into the hot bath water adjacent to me. Cassian had brought me to the House of Wind to get dressed and I’d refused anything until I’d erased all traces of sweat. I couldn’t stand the sensation of my skin crawling with cooled sweat and grime stuck to me. In the moment when I trained, I barely noticed the exertion but afterwards it was all I could do not to scream. 

I sat on a small wooden stool probably meant to help climbing into the bathtub; I used it to perch on while I washed. I was covered from head to toe in suds from Cassian’s unscented soap. I had my head bent between my knees as I worked my fingers through the knots in my long hair. It needed to be cut or trimmed soon. It pooled on the stone ground beneath me, swirling into a dark pool with glossy soap bubbles.

My fingers were attempting to unsnag a particularly gruesome knot. I’d slept on the old braid, lazily refixed it that morning and trained in it. I should have expected to be punished for my carelessness but I was willing to overlook my usual morning routine when I woke with Cassian. I didn’t abide it’s rigor when Cassian held me tight, warm breath ghosting my skin and promising my comfort. Why would I trade that just to spare me a few knots?

I was reminding myself  _ just why  _ when the door opened. From my angle, I watched Cassian’s bare feet skirt around me to slip into the tub next to me. Water sloshed and lurched over the tub’s rim, splashing my feet. The lower he sank, the more water that poured over the side, washing the suds from the floor and draining where the floor met the wall. The floor was slightly slanted so that all water drained to one end, a barely noticeable space between wall and floor that led somewhere else. Every detail of the House of Wind was purposeful, as I was finding out, and I appreciated the care taken immensely.

“That’s an ugly knot,” he assessed, finger skimming my spine to tap where my hands were buried in my hair. I stilled under his inspection. It was ridiculous that Cassian’s attentive gaze could bring gooseflesh to my skin when the howling winds of Velaris couldn’t. “Would you like help?” 

I didn’t have a choice. I could struggle under his watchful gaze or swallow my pride and let him attempt to unravel the problem I’d created. I nodded and pulled my hands from the bird’s nest at the nape of my skull. Cassian moved in the bathtub, beyond my sight, and returned when he plucked something from a stone overhang. More water sloshed over the rim. If he kept dancing around, it wouldn’t be much of a bath. I heard the  _ pop  _ of a lid. 

He leaned over the rim of the stone basin, one forearm and bicep visible to my gaze. The angular lines of his tattoo began at the deltoids. I’d always thought tattoos harsh looking, abrupt or unnatural but Cassian could have been born with his. His skin wasn’t pale like mine so it blended well with the black striking marks. 

His fingers found the knot with ease and he spent a few patient moments working the hair until it fell apart. His hands came away. “What did you put in my hair?” I asked, smoothing my hair back over my spine. 

He passed me a jar, smile on his lips. “It’s like a wax. I’ll need to wash it from your hair too,” he picked up the small glass I used to pour water over my body. He scooped the bathwater then turned to my hair, motioning for me to show him my back. I looked away. One hand went to my hair while the other steadily poured water, working away the wax.   
“What is the wax meant for?” 

“When it’s winter in the Illyrian mountains, flying high can get too cold for comfort. Especially if I’m not willing to use my magic. Swipe on a layer of that wax and the worst of the chill is taken away,” he explained, voice low and sweeping over my skin. I swore I could see the very mountains he spoke of since he had described them countless times to me.

“How can you cover your entire wing in any reasonable amount of time?” I looked back at him in disbelief. 

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Just the bones and muscles. They take the brunt of the wind.” 

“You can reach?” I didn’t believe that. I’d seen Madja’s diagrams. His shoulders should be encumbered by the muscle attachments for his wings. 

“I make do,” he replied to avoid having to give further detail of how he contorted himself. 

I let it go in favor of what had been on my tongue since we’d met outside Amren’s earlier. “I told Amren I would go with you to the Relaran Pass. To be nearer the Cauldron,” I forced out. “I’d pass as a halfway decent healer. Madja says so herself.” I’d largely dropped the idea of becoming a healer under Madja’s instruction in favor of training with Amren. Now, looking back I wondered how smart that had been. I needed to train but either way, my mind was slipping steadily away. I might as well do as I please for the time being. 

His hand tightened and relaxed quickly in my hair. “Is that wise, Nes?” he asked just before pouring more hot water down my back. His fingers resumed to work the wax from my hair. 

_ I’m not known for my wisdom _ , came to my tongue unbidden. I wasn’t known for much but in this endeavor, I’d at least be known for my ability to survive. How many times was I supposed to die? Feyre must share my thoughts in this as well; her confidence in Hybern’s prisons was no wonder to me now. I cheated death so many times now that it had lost it’s luster. How could it be a threat when I trained with it every day? There came a time when you faced it and had nothing left other than to embrace it and more forward. I swallowed, dipping my head into a curt nod. “It is.”

His sigh brought me from my thoughts. He sat the glass cup on the tile floor with a  _ clink _ . “Must you find different ways to worry me?” he kissed my shoulder, hand rubbing circles into the base of my skull. He wasn’t scolding me but sighing with the resignation of knowing I would not change my mind. I tipped my head back into his strong and capable fingers. “And you want to be a healer? Not a scribe? Helion would welcome a scribe.” 

“I’m not going anywhere near that male,” I snipped. He laughed, breath ghosting my exposed neck. Gooseflesh trailing in it’s wake. His other hand circled my waist to lay flat against my ribcage, thumb stroking the skin there to brush the underside of my breast. “What’s wrong with being a healer?” 

He groaned, hand’s tightening incrementally at the base of my skull and waist. “Everything, Nes.” 

“What I hear is that you can’t control your own instincts,” I breathed out. My laugh was a little choked in my throat from how bent it was. My muscles tightened and relaxed. I curled my toes until the pain of pressing them into the stone floor gave my mind clarity. The scent of cedar ensured my mind wouldn’t stray too far however. I was attuned to him, the steady rise and fall of his chest and that equally steady heartbeat. The damnably rhythmic heart that sounded like drums that pushed my own to a crescendo. It was bold talk when my body was betraying me in a thousand, ill-advised ways. 

He drew in a deep breath from the heady air around us. I hadn’t noticed when I became lightheaded. His hand came around to hold my neck where it met my jawline, stroking my pulse languidly. I couldn’t see the trail his eyes made on my body but I could feel it sure enough. My magic knew his own well enough to sense all of it’s movements in the air around us. Just as my magic melded to him, his did to me. Liquid pooled in my body until anything solid or with a hint of backbone had become far less substantial. If I could smell my arousal, Cassian must already have minutes ago. He pressed his lips against my neck. I could feel the smile on them. “Control yourself, Nes, we have to get ready still,” he breathed out a shuddered sigh, displaying his own lapse of control. He released me like any longer and he’d forget his own words too. He rose from the bath to stride naked from the room to get dressed for Starfall. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👏⭐🌙🌟 It's Starfall Time 🌟🌙⭐👏
> 
> (2/1 EST): Added 2 parts (6 parts in total) and I changed Lucien's POV to Elain's. Also, lol I couldn't help myself and you'll know what I'm referring to.   
> (1/31 EST): 4/5 parts added, still haven't decided if we need the 6th part.  
> (1/30 EST): This chapter currently has 2/5 parts (Cassian, Lucien, Cassian, Lucien, Rhysand) and will be added to tomorrow. It *might* become a 6-part chapter though. 
> 
> What Kind of Woman Is This? - Buddy Guy  
> Sinnerman - Nina Simone  
> The End - JPOLND
> 
> I'll be your lover, too - Robert Pattinson
> 
> Girl Crush - Harry Styles   
> Set Free - Katie Grey

**Cassian:**

Nesta had never sworn any loyalty to Rhysand or the Night Court. I didn’t think she ever would and a part of me was saddened by that. But the rest of me knew with every fiber of my being, I loved her for her independence. She stood apart and freely, accepting the consequences of that decision. I could never. 

I was a strong bastard in the Illyrian mountains. I could fight my way through half the camps and still have energy to take care of the other half. My magic lent me an edge the others simply did not possess. Though my talents went beyond my magic and strength because it was rooted in something more primitive. Being a bastard, I had to survive on my own and I learned survival better than the rest. Illyrian senses were sharpened for the hunt but mine had a different affinity; I could smell when the tides turned against me and could practically hear the unspoken lie on someone’s lips. _That_ was what survival had taught me. 

Rhysand’s mother, Mira, watched me grow up and into the strong bastard I became. With a deadpan face that could skin a male alive, she’d watch me in the sparring ring. The times I let my magic kill the weaker opponent, she was there to witness. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t comment nor did she wait to congratulate me. Either finding her son or flying away, she left before I could reach her. Rhysand didn’t speak to me in those days. We had a tentative friendship but that was ruined when I entered the sparring ring and decided the others needed to die. Which was why I was driven partially crazy by Mira’s continued presence: _She shouldn’t feel the need to watch over me anymore._

I’d had to wait until she let me approach her. The High Lord of the Night Court was far more strict with those that broke the tenets of the Night Court hierarchy at the time. She waited behind one day and I knew I had permission. I’d confronted her. Demanded to know why she insisted on haunting me. I was so angry I hadn’t bothered to check my temper; if she’d had a mind to, she could have had my back whipped raw without question. Such was the right of the Lady but I didn’t care. I spoke unguarded anyway. A piece of me even then knew what I was doing was shameful but I couldn’t see why I should care. 

_Because if I leave, you will be alone._ Rhysand inherited many things from his mother but not her wide, expansive eyes. They were so dark brown, you couldn’t distinguish the iris. They were round like plates, like Elain’s. They’d swallow a person whole. 

I had to look away to reply. _I’ve been alone before. It’s nothing I’m not used to._

 _You are not someone who can survive alone._ She stated and despite her presumption of knowing me, I couldn’t tell her she was wrong. _If you continue, you will be alone and you will die._

The next time I was in the sparring ring, I let the other male kick the shit out of me. Not because I thought my cosmic balance would be restored but because I didn’t have the urge to kill or even fight anymore. But Rhysand came around to pick me up out of the mud and him and Mira helped apply thick coats of drush root to my wounds. I cried the entire time. 

Mira had been right. I couldn’t be on my own. 

Nesta could survive on her own. One look at her and anyone could see her will was strong enough, she’d survive just to spite anyone who told her she couldn’t. She’d bleed and all the while feign she never felt the knife enter. Despite all her perseverance, just because she could survive on her own, didn’t mean she wanted to. However, she’d never feel the need to belong as strongly as I did that she would sacrifice her own freedom and swear loyalty to the Night Court. 

Yet when she walked into our bed chamber, I knew she’d parted with her independence sometime ago. She wore a long saree that stretched to her ankles, wrists and high up her neck of midnight black. Most of her skin was covered except for her shoulders where the fabric was cut into with a scalloped trim, embroidered finely with crimson thread. The trim of the dress was embroidered similarly. She wore a long red wrap that was so thin it could have been a spider’s gossamer but hung with little golden bells that tingled softly as she walked. Her hair was pinned at the base of her neck in a simple bun. 

At my gawking stare, she stopped before me with a knowing glint in her eyes. “I didn’t bother shaping my hair as I know the flight down would ruin all the effort,” she breathed and I couldn’t help but suck in as if that’d bring me closer to whatever magic she held in her. Nesta had a magic that wasn’t Cauldron-touched. It was hers and it held me captivated. 

**Lucien:**

Helion didn’t understand why tonight we _needed_ to return to the Night Court for a single night. Elain was dressing in the bathing room. I was waiting for her in the bedroom and Helion had strode in, asking why we are readying to leave when we should have been readying for dinner. He’d startled me with how damnably silent he came and went. “I do not understand what demands your immediate attention,” he finished. 

I was wearing a different set of robes, a muted moss green that Elain had said she liked particularly because it offset my hair. I didn’t mind so long as Elain didn’t. I figured Rhysand wouldn’t care what I wore as long as we came. “We will be back before dawn,” I replied. I’d never heard about Starfall before in my entire life and I prided myself in the well-rounded education I had on Prythian. Helion would, unfortunately, never hear about it and I wouldn’t be the one to enlighten him. 

He pursed his lips. “I take it that it is not an emergency.” I thought I’d enjoy the evening with my mate, readying for Starfall but after shooing out the servants, Helion had made his appearance. The High Lord didn’t need a reason to barge into our rooms but his willingness to do so only irritated me. 

“No, Helion,” I sighed, feeling the conversation would summon a headache. I’d just gotten past my last one. Elain had a particularly trying day of visions. I could feel her exhaustion through the bond and it was already a long night. “We are leaving to watch the newest form of torture,” I rolled my eyes. 

His golden orbs narrowed which was good as if they’d laid their full brightness on me, I’d have gone blind. “I’ve warned you of the issues of leaving the Day Court.” 

“And I’ve told you Rhysand is beyond reproach on the matter.”

“Traveling with Elain now that the world knows of her is the matter.” 

I glared, sucking in a breath. “I can protect her.”

He loosed a harsh breath, shaking his head. “Let the others war with their instincts. You possess impulse control and though you spend time with Cassian and Azriel, you don’t share their instincts either. Do not make the mistake of thinking you’re infallible.” 

My nostrils flared. I internally winced. The gesture was _entirely_ reminiscent of Cassian. “I am not but I do believe I can handle winnowing from one Court to another.” 

“And what demands your attention?” he asked. 

“A dinner party,” Elain strode into the room. Her hands were nearly invisible in the braid she was currently finishing to rest over her shoulder. Golden streaks in her brown hair shimmered in the candlelight. She had also opted to wear Day Court robes which the non-thinking, irrational instincts I had inside me was pleased to see. “I want to see my sister. Lucien should like to shed scholarly occupations for a spar and why shouldn’t we go to the Night Court at night?” she almost sang, checking off each task from her fingers. 

Helion tilted his head, a smile finding his face. He really was powerless against Elain’s charms. “And you are wearing Day Court robes,” he appraised, pride woven in his deep voice. 

“Of course,” her smile fell a little, eyebrows worrying. “This is our home too?” 

“That it is,” Helion curtly nodded though I knew the impact of my mate’s words went deeper than his response suggested. I needn’t give Helion an outward show of my affection; I’d let Elain take care of that. Where she was happy was where I would go. I also had no desire to confront Helion on any score of topics concerning the past or future. He believed I’d be his heir and I didn’t yet believe I could be a High Lord. I never wanted to be. I was having a hard time adjusting to this idea. It seemed attractive on the surface but look any deeper and the cracks were clearly visible and quite gaping. A High Lord put nothing and no one above their people; one glance at Elain and I knew I was not capable of doing that. 

She wore a robe dyed in the pink I’d associate with the blush of her cheeks or the color of her lips after we kissed. It was loose and flowing with wide sleeves. A golden cord wrapped several times at her waist to keep it secure. The neckline was scooped out from shoulder to shoulder with more golden cords draping across her chest and back. When she turned, I saw the dress’s back vanished. My eyes widened but I quickly corrected the response. Helion’s knowing smile, small enough not to let Elain know, was enough to spur a blush in my cheeks. 

My mate’s back was nearly on full display except for the golden threads that dangled in the hollow between her shoulder blades. I wondered when she’d decided to fully embrace the Day Court style. I refused to forgo my shorts under my robes. 

“How remiss of me,” Helion replied flatly. 

“You’ll have to visit the chrysanthemums without me tonight,” she smiled apologetically. I was thrown by her statement. Helion glanced at me and knew I’d caught the meaning. Elain carried on anyway, “But Lucien shall keep me safe till our return in the dawn.”

Chrysanthemums were my mother’s favorite flower. One of the only flowers to bloom exclusively in the autumn, they were the symbol of her lineage. An orange chrysanthemum set against a dark blue background decorated nearly every surface in my mother’s ancestral home. My mother had likely gifted Helion the chrysanthemums. I didn’t insult them by assuming Helion didn’t understand the importance of the gesture. I knew for a fact that chrysanthemums in the Autumn Court palace were of the yellow or red variety, but never from my mother’s home where they bloomed blood orange. 

Helion dropped the staring content with me and nodded. “If you are both not returned by Dawn, I’ll find you two myself.” 

“Rhysand would not be pleased.” 

“Rhysand,” Helion dragged out the male’s name with familiarity I hadn’t known to exist. “Would most definitely understand.” I couldn’t fault the male’s logic. 

Helion left us to winnow but before that, I turned to my mate. I couldn’t help myself. My fingers trailed her spine, delighting in her answering shiver. The dress itself begged the question of how fast it could come away. She gasped. “Where did the back of your dress go?” I grinned, pressing my palm flat against the glorious expanse of her soft skin. She was inviting me further with everything she wore. Her curves settled perfectly in my hands, begging me to explore more. 

Her hands settled on my chest. Both a steadying gesture and a plea for increased proximity. I breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering closed at what I found. _Honeysuckle. Sugar._ “It was a waste of cloth. I like this design, do you not?” she asked, voice throaty. Her tongue darted across her petal pink lips and my eyes followed the gesture with interest. She watched me through a half-lidded gaze. 

“Will you not get cold? It’s winter,” I bowed my head. I brushed my nose against the curve of her jaw. I gently swept her hair from her shoulder to expose the tender skin. I pressed a kiss to her neck. Her hands fisted in the shirt of my robes, weight tugging on them to keep steady. My hands found purchase on her waist, fingers kneading the pliant flesh there. I was rewarded with the headier scent of her arousal. 

“And why would I?” she asked, causing me to draw my head away to view her fully flushed cheeks. Her honey-colored eyes filled with tenderness reserved for me and only slightly taunting. “I have you to keep me warm.”

**Rhysand:**

I hadn’t heard from Feyre since our last conversation. I’d approached the fortress of her mind and hadn’t dared go further. I wanted to. _Cauldron_ , I wanted to reach out and feel her mind against mine but that would have been selfish. She would come to me when she was ready. I had faith that Feyre would find me but my traitorous mind imagined all the ways in which she would be unable to reach me. Any small dose of faebane and she’d be held away from me again. 

“She’ll find a way,” I mumbled to myself as I slipped on my tunic for Starfall. I had a different one planned. I glanced at it bitterly, still hanging in my closet next to Feyre’s dress. The tunic evoked my worst side where all my softer feelings died in the trade of imagining all the things I’d do to the people that hurt what was mine. On the night of the dinner with Tarquin and his court, when I’d sworn Feyre in as High Lady while she sat on a table in our tent still half-dressed and perfectly happy, I’d envisioned this day. We would have matched as a symbol that we were a pair, mates and partners. High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. United. _Equal_. 

It was only made worse by the fact Feyre’s crown sat on a velvet cushion in front of me. I closed the lid on it’s box before I chucked that too off the side of the mountain. I hadn’t told her I’d done that. It didn’t seem like something she’d care for but I could see the sadness in her eyes when I did admit it. She’d know the extent and depth of my pain from all the times I lost control.

Instead, I wore a simple but nice tunic of black. No design. No inlaid color. Nothing. I hoped to attend, partake in a small amount of festivities and then I would leave. My Court would be distracted tonight and that would give me time to myself, away from prying eyes. My absence would give them the freedom to enjoy themselves without being reminded of outside pain. I wouldn’t make them resent their happiness. I wanted them to be happy and more than anything, I wanted Feyre and I to join them one day. 

Velaris was beautiful tonight. It was a rule that no light bigger than a single candle’s flame was allowed on Starfall. If you wanted light, you’d have to walk with your own candle. No chandeliers, torches or campfires. Tonight, we joined our ancestors in the dark and when they arrived, we blew out the candles and let the rest of the celebration be lit only by the sky. The moon was just coming back so only faint moonlight lit the streets. I barely casted a shadow as I flew above, purposefully extending my time in the air for as long as possible. 

I left the House of Wind just before the festivities would begin. 

It was getting close on time. I landed on a distant street that was abandoned as the entire city crowded on the streets surrounding the Sidra. They were packed. I didn’t often make it a point to push my own people around so I was forced to squeeze and _pardon me_ my way through the crowd. Those I touched turned and smiled, wishing me a happy Starfall or shook my hand jovially. Soon, they parted themselves to let me walk freely. Though they cleared my path, I spent even longer speaking with them. I’d been away for fifty years and now my time was spent at the war camps. They all greeted me with the same enthusiasm kept for the dying, for those you just don’t know when you’d see them again. 

_If Feyre were here, they wouldn’t smile at me with such tightness._ They’d have trusted themselves to relax, that their High Lord and soon-to-be-High Lady would return from the war and all would be well. Without my mate present there could be no relaxation. They didn’t know she was my High Lady just yet but they knew she belonged, at the very least, on my right-hand side. Her absence was noted. I shouldn’t be surprised by the sheer magnitude of a hole Feyre left but I always found myself staring at it in wonder. 

I took my time moving among the citizens of Velaris and had yet to spot a single member of my family. There was no location that we agreed upon but normally I could have counted on Azriel or Morrigan running up to me by now, letting me know which home we would settle on its roof for stargazing. Or which dance hall they could be found in. The view from the House of Wind would have been unparalleled but it was custom for the people to open their own doors to the High Lord. It was purely ritual up until I took over the throne. Now, every Starfall, we chose a different home and dancehall to visit as a way of keeping things fair.

I reached Polaris, the largest bridge on the Sidra, and climbed to it’s peak. At one point, someone had given me a candle to carry and some of the hot wax dripped over my fingers. I let the discomfort of the heat keep me focused. If I didn’t, I’d get lost in all the _what ifs_ that usually accompanied Starfall. 

I found my family among the crowd, Morrigan’s bright golden hair acting as a beacon. Many of my people chose to don Night Court black tonight so naturally Mor, with her straw hair and crimson dress stuck out. She was linking arms with Azriel and Nuala but when I spotted her, she waved so enthusiastically, she nearly toppled Nuala _and Cerridwen_ , whom Nuala linked arms with. 

Behind her were Cassian and Nesta along with Lucien and Elain. Nesta and Elain were adjacent and had their heads ducked in heated conversation. Cassian and Lucien were exchanging words but they seemed to be more than entertained by the sight of the two sisters. Seeing them together, I relaxed. My spine didn’t feel so much like a slab of marble anymore, heavy and rigid. We were here and on any night, above all others, Feyre was with us too in some way. 

I found my voice, swallowing several times to get rid of the dryness though it didn’t work. “Tonight,” I began, letting the crowds hush carry before continuing. The snow had stopped as if the clouds knew tonight was not for them. “Tonight we remember our ancestors and we join them in the darkness. We blow out our candles now,” I raised my candle and everyone raised theirs in kind. “And know we do not walk alone, those that we have lost are with us. They guide us when we are lost and they comfort us when we are without. We celebrate in their honor tonight knowing we may join them tomorrow,” I finished, bringing the candle before me to blow it out. Hundreds of smoke trails wisped into the sky, blown away on a chill breeze and made invisible against the night. I flexed my wax-covered hand and swallowed hard, hoping now that my speech was over the night could carry on.

All of Velaris was still as we waited in hushed silence. Throughout the centuries, Starfall has never ceased to amaze and though this year had tested many traditions, it didn’t break with this one. In streaks of vibrant green and blue, the sky slowly lit up. At first there were only a few that the lucky could track through the sky. A few gasps went through the crowd. Childlings sitting on parent’s shoulders pointed, whispering excitedly. Then there were many shooting towards the mountain towering over the city and the crowd vibrated with excitement. Low chatter hummed in my ear. 

The stars hit the snow capped giant and coated it in dazzling lights. We watched in awe as more came and their trajectory turned lower, towards the people. The stars crashed from the sky in torrents that coated every surface in lights far more spectacular than raw magic. It didn’t burn the skin nor sting the eye to behold. It was a glowing, ephemeral mass of light that existed for a moment before dancing out of existence. As more fell and the city radiated light, the whispers turned to chatter and instruments started strumming. 

One hit me square in my cheek and another tipping my wing. I had been so caught off guard from watching others that a breathless laugh escaped me afterwards. My black tunic was spotted in tinkling green and yellow. When they collided, it felt like a breeze or a whisper. To me, it was when Feyre spoke into my skin and her warm breath blew softly over me, raising gooseflesh. The phantom sensation of her arms around my waist made me gulp. She was close. They didn’t smell like anything but a fresh wind but as my thoughts were with my memories, I could only scent lilac. Lilac and the cold breeze of flying at night. 

**Cassian:**

Nesta’s black silhouette didn’t last long at all. She was coated in the star’s dust, not even her hair was spared. “It’s not sticky,” she admired, stretching out her arms. Elain was gasping from beyond her. 

“Sticky?” I echoed, watching how the light streamed from her and casted shadows over her face. The street was pressing against us to clear space; the dancing was about to start. I threaded my hand around her waist, pressing her snug against me even if it coated me equally well in stardust. It was good luck to be touched on Starfall, and normally everyone received the luck by the end of the night, but Nesta must have been triply blessed. As we moved to the sidelines, others couldn’t help but notice how brightly she shined. I felt lucky. 

Anyone who wasn’t dancing began to help the musicians make more noise, either by clapping in time or singing the lyrics. It was an oddly happy story about how the High Lords tricked the Weaver into her cottage. 

_We opened the door_

_And locked it tight_

_Running and running,_

_No end in sight_

_She could chase us tomorrow_

_but not tonight_

I’d heard the song millions of times before but it never compared to how it sounded on Starfall. With nonsensical lyrics and whimsical notions of defying a God of Death, it made me swell with energy and breathe in deep. 

_Here is your spindle_

_But no thread to weave_

_We’ll send our maidens_

_And take our leave_

I found with lyrics that rhymed, they were best heard when shouted at the top of your lungs. 

“I guess it would have been a far different night if it had the consistency of honey,” she muttered to herself, bringing the dust between her fingers closer for inspection. 

“You’re squishing my ancestors between your fingers,” I remarked, looking at her long elegant fingers. She rubbed her fingers faster. 

“I’m pinching them for making you,” she replied, daring me with her eyes to find a smarter retort. There was none where Nesta was concerned. She possessed a keen mind only beaten by her sharper tongue. 

Nesta wasn’t one for public affection but I really wished to kiss her. I tightened my grip on her waist instead, sweeping her up against my chest until her hands rested comfortably there. “Dance with me?” I asked, eyeing the partners quickly flooding the streets. 

She looked hesitantly from me to the floor, eyes watching at the dancers spun in circles without direction. There was no coordinated movement yet everyone of them appeared to turn in sync. “I’ve never learned any dances from Velaris.” 

“There are no dances,” I chuckled. She gave me a flat look and the shadows casted under her cheek bones and eyes became more threatening. “I’ll lead you,” I encouraged. With her eyes still casting nervous glances towards the dance, she nodded. I didn’t let her reconsider. I swept her back out from the sidelines and we joined the mess of a dance floor. All dancing in Velaris was was an excuse to throw your body around, spinning in circles until you found a partner to steady you or you met the floor. Luckily, I had mine but I had to temper my weight against hers. Her hand rested in mine and the other at my shoulder. I stepped to the right and she followed in time. My hand at her waist letting her know where to move next. We moved to the right but tilted inward enough to make a full circle and not before long, Nesta had the steps down. 

She didn’t let me lead for long after that either. I suspected I’d need to almost triple Nesta’s weight to match mine but I’d never have enough muscle in the world to match her strength. Her hands, like iron claws, held fast to mine and soon she was pulling me in circles too. We moved so quickly that our bodies blurred with the light from all the stardust. Green, blue and yellow flew by us with the occasional purple. Her laughter caught on the wind, dancing in my ears and it was much finer music to me. Because of how the wind carried it, it seemed to come at me from all directions. A very disorienting and pleasing sensation. 

The song ended and trader for a quiet ode played on harp and flute. I easily guided Nesta to my chest, my grip tightening on her. She didn’t hesitate to lightly lay her cheek against my tunic. Magic and Nesta normally went hand in hand but tonight, she was quieter than normal. Her magic was distant, not so bright to me. I thought it would have been overly hopeful of me, wishing it was in respect for Starfall. 

“Nes?” I asked. 

“Yes, Cassian.” 

“What did you and Amren argue about?” Amren didn’t attend Starfall. She watched it from her apartment but she preferred the seclusion. Mor had thought to join her one year only to discover Amren angrier than ever at being disturbed. Mor never made the same mistake twice but she warned us all the Amren’s eyes had been glossy. We let our resident dragon to her own devices tonight but in the morning, we’d check on her. 

Nes sighed out. “Leaving for the war camps,” she replied effortlessly. _That wasn’t it then_ , I thought. 

“She doesn’t want you to leave?” I didn’t repeat that I agreed wholeheartedly with Amren; Nesta had called me _Illyrian pup_ enough for me to understand her mind had been made up. I appreciated her fierce independence and yet, I wanted to shield her away and keep her among the people I knew who could protect her if I couldn’t. 

“She wants me to continue training.” 

“What is training?” I asked though the question was so singular that it could never have hoped to come off as nonchalance. I was fooling no one. Azriel had no idea what went on in Amrens as Amren ensured her domain could never be trespassed on. Nesta never spoke of her magic which left me curious. 

“Why do you care so much?” she looked up at me, eyes made of steel and lips set in a thin line. 

“You can act with the Queens but not with me, Nes. You’re deflecting,” I shot back, irritated she’d reinstalled all that distance we had between us months ago. The steel gave way to hints of regret, her tongue licking over her lips while her eyes averted their harsh gaze. Her hands were not relaxed and her posture had reverted back to impeccably stiff. A chasm had opened again. “I wouldn’t judge you. You know this. You come home exhausted and your mind might as well be leagues away. Are these things you wish me to ignore?” my voice softened towards the end. I couldn’t be silent on these things because I cared for her and she worried me. 

“It’s not like your magic or anyone else’s for that matter,” she hissed. Her eyes darted to the nearby dancers, undoubtedly searching out our family. She looked back to our feet, “It would be best if you never knew.” 

“That’s bullshit, Nes,” I turned her in a circle towards me but she wasn’t willing to be led. Her hands tugged and I was following her in the next turn. 

“And why’s that?” she jeered, smile turning cynical. 

I tugged her waist till our chests were pressed tight and she had no choice but to stare me down. “Because I want to know all of you, even the parts you want to keep hidden,” I whispered, our lips barely a hair’s breadth apart. Nesta might push my instincts to their absolute limit but I’d respect her desire for privacy, even while we were in the center of a crowd. Our breath, fogging in the cold, mingled between us. I sucked in deeply, pleased, despite her racing heart. 

The muscles of her neck tightened and she swallowed, glancing away. I almost recoiled at the foreign scent of salt but my hands made up for my reflex and brought her closer. “How can you?” she asked, voice low and choked. Her hand at my shoulder grabbed tightly, seeking and searching for purchase on me. My tunic bunched up and she caught skin but the way she pulled made it seem like she was falling. I held her so closely her toes skimmed the stones and yet she was still slipping through my fingers. “I’m not even fully here,” she whispered, a tear spilling over her cheek.

**Elain:**

When the night sky exploded with light and the streets of Velaris in kind, Morrigan had latched onto my arm excitedly. Her happiness was absolute; it made her skin shine illustriously bronze while her hair was golden. Despite being cousins, her and Rhysand were only unified by their darker skin tones. Morrigan’s hair made her seem like a bright sun while Rhysand was an impenetrable night with those violet eyes, hypnotizing and cunning. Her preference for crimson colors only emphasized the vitality surrounding her. Now that she was smiling, it was impossible to look away. 

“I did not know you’d favor Day Court dress as well,” she glanced back to Lucien who remained with Cassian and Nesta. Morrigan skimmed over my attire with a grin. “I couldn’t step past how whimsical all their garments are.” 

“At first they were too open,” I nodded. “But I found they are much less restrictive...and they have these neat little compartments,” I pointed to my waist where the folds of my dress hid one. Most of my dresses at the Day Court now had seeds tucked away inside that I selected from the garden, intent on crossbreeding some flowers. 

“Oh pockets,” she cooed. The Night Court favored breast bindings and more form-fitting attire so Morrigan’s cropped tunic accentuated her curves. I liked the fact I could disappear in many layers of the Day Court robes; I didn’t need to constantly adjust while I gardened or keep my back so rigid. I believe Nesta liked that about some Night Court garments, that she could keep her corset or trade for breast bindings if she wanted. “How is the Day Court?” she asked, procuring us champagne kept in small glasses no longer than my pinkie finger. 

We clinked them amiably, the tinkling noise adding to my continued delight. I was tired but happy. “It is still beautiful but I spend most of my time learning or having visions. How was the continent?” 

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “If I say tiresome, will you understand?” I laughed, nodding. “We received another letter I’ve yet to pass along. They’ve had merchant interest in some of the offerings and are asking if we’d be open to trading with the merchants.” 

I bit my lip. “I don’t imagine that will go over well.” 

She laughed, tilting her head back. “I can already see it. What amount of gold would suffice for a shield to push back the tides?” she shook her head. I found it sweet that she thought of the Summer Court’s reaction. I was beginning to understand the Day Court’s approach to love, in why they remained polygamous. Loving one doesn’t undervalue the love of another, not when it’s pure. 

Morrigan’s eyes darted back to mine. Her back stiffened. “Oh, you know.” I should have known her own magic would tell her as such. I nodded, keeping silent and letting my friend speak freely. “It’s odd that you do when not many do,” she admitted, looking at her unfinished champagne in her hands. “It’s a relief but only the terrifying kind.” 

“I cannot reveal what I see, Morrigan,” I said, attempting comfort. Not only would I not betray her secret, I could not. It wasn’t mine to tell but I hoped she’d allow me her confidence. All my visions and the ones of Morrigan pained me worst because it was heartbreak and I understood that on a visceral level. Her enemies couldn’t be stabbed through the heart or beaten by outmaneuvering them. 

She nodded, nervously but then more confidently. Her neck was tight. “And I guess that is a double-edge sword,” she sighed. I had attempted to answer that myself but came up empty. Would it benefit anyone to know their fates? But then how did it help them for me to? The question was circular and without answer.

“It is,” I allowed myself to admit. Briefly, I didn't want to be at the party. I was exhausted. When I was human and we had the wealth, I loved the dancing and excitement. It was Nesta I had to force to at least sit at the meal with any guests. Forget the idea of bringing her to another ball, she refused to attend them all claiming immense disinterest. I recalled the look of absolute boredom on her face at dinner and knew better than to ask again. 

I was wildly amused when Nesta entered the dance floor with Cassian but I couldn’t say I felt shocked. They looked natural together even when they came across as opposites. 

“Elain, you’re looking a little tired,” Morrigan was very warm to the touch when her hand reached for mine. 

I opened my mouth but my mate beat me to responding, as I was fond of him for doing. I never needed to awkwardly fumble through excuses or explanations. “We skipped dinner, I take it there  _ is  _ food somewhere here,” Lucien chuckled, rising to his toes to look over the crowd. Azriel went to Morrigan’s side. 

“We’re going to dance,” Azriel told Morrigan. 

“Over the bridge,” Morrigan pointed, head darting back to Azriel. “But why?” Lucien was already tugging me away, losing interest immediately in Azriel and Morrigan’s exchange. I craned my neck, wanting to hear. 

“Nesta and Cassian are still dancing,” he murmured to Morrigan. She nodded eagerly, eyes searching out the dance partners. His hazel eyes flicked to me even as he and Morrigan disappeared into the crowd’s chaos. A slight grin formed on his lips that vanished from sight in the next step, Lucien guiding me further and further away. I wasn’t sure what I just witnessed. The fact it hadn’t come from a vision was even more startling. Giddiness swept over me. Seeing something in person, so harmless as their curiosity for my sister’s relationship, made me turn to Lucien grinning ear to ear. 

“Where did that come from?” Lucien’s lips upturned into a sly grin. His hand pressed flat against the small of my back, urging me closer. Heat emanated from him. In the crowd, I hardly had to fear the wind but I was equally pleased my mate still sought to keep me comfortable. I’d gratefully accept the dutifulness Lucien displayed in caring for me. His desire to see me happy went beyond his instincts to see me safe. In tender ways, he strived to make me happy either by finding my favorite fruits or showing me to the garden when new additions were made. 

I breathed in his spiced scent, carried to me by fluttering wisps of his copper hair. “I’m very glad we came.” The crowds jostled Lucien and I in the most wonderful display of excitement I had ever seen. My head conveniently nestled into his shoulder while we navigated and we explored the festivities. 

He looked down at me, his smile taking over his face as well to mirror me. “Me too.” 

“You’re not exhausted?” 

He chuckled. “Elain, I winnowed a few places today.” I loved that my mate knew me well. Well enough to steer me past all the skewered and curried meats with savory bread and salted fruit. Instead, we walked right to where the sweets were set out in droves. Anything small enough to be covered in chocolate along with cakes dusted in sugar and honey. I admired the Night Court for finding creative ways for fruit to be eaten. They soaked fruit in honey, drowned in sweet creams, baked it under flaky crusts. 

I plucked a tart with peach baked and heavily sugared on top. “I’m not sure how tiring that can be but I’d assume very,” I replied, biting into the desert. I selected a steaming apple, wrapped in a cloth napkin and radiating cinnamon and sugar. Lucien didn’t bother waiting to let the baked apple cool, biting into it and smiling even as steam blew from his mouth. 

“I’m sure you can winnow,” he nodded, continuing to take several large bites and finishing his desert before reaching for another. He ended up taking two more apples, cradling them like precious treasures against his chest. I picked up several interesting looking desserts and let Lucien lead the way to where we could sample the treats. He parked us at a bench on the Sidra but we shared with more fae. There wasn’t enough room so I took my seat on his lap, happy to be off my feet. “I’ll teach you,” he said between bites. 

“I’m happy to let you winnow me around,” I teased. I sat across his lap, one arm draped over his shoulder and the other collecting different pastries from my legs. 

“While I am happy to do so, I’ll still teach you. It is a useful skill that you’ll probably master in a second,” he chuckled, accepting a chocolate cake from me and swallowing it whole. 

His mouth was a mess of chocolate, sugar and flaky crust crumbs. I leaned forward and kissed him for the explicit sensation of sweetness mixed with my mate. I meant to make it brief but his hand swept under my jaw, pressed stickiness to my skin and gluing me to him. The combination of flavor and Lucien’s scent of cinnamon and vanilla with those undertones of pear and fig were dizzying. My cheeks heated when his tongue swept between my lips, tasting the remnants of a strawberry cream and remembering how public we were. He kept me securely pressed to his hard frame but I still held his neck like an anchor, pressing my thumb against his rapid pulse. 

My own heart was frantic, my head was light. Lucien withdrew with a lazy smile and slightly swollen lips. “I liked the strawberry one,” he mumbled. 

“I love you most,” I replied, kissing the corner of his mouth. It was a night that made me want to crawl inside it and live there. Like the warm bed I shared with my mate, wrapped in warm blankets of comfort and dreams. I knew there was more pain to come and also more joy but sometimes I wanted to save the happiness I felt for later, when it’d be scarce. 

“You’re changeable,” he remarked, pressing his nose against my hair. “Thinking about tomorrow?” He asked me that often now. When visions kept me thinking on the future, he’d ask me that. 

“That obvious?” I winced. 

He smiled against my head. “I’d love to think I know you so well but I also have a direct line to your heart, love,” he reminded me patiently. It was odd to think we’ve only been together for a few months but I couldn’t imagine a future without him. “It must be an interesting future with the names you wrote on some of those letters,” many of them, I’d addressed to Eris, which must have endlessly grated on Lucien’s nerves. 

“You don’t have to deliver them yourself. I’m sure we can work out an arrangement with some of the servants at the Day Court,” I sighed. 

“I told you I’d do this and I will,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Even if it means dealing with my family. We should have seen this coming anyway. After the war...maybe even during, many invitations will come in for you,” his hands tightened; I wasn’t sure he was aware of that reaction while his eyes watched the busy streets. 

“For what? A fortune?” I remarked dryly.

He chuckled. “Of course not. They know you couldn’t give them one but it’s customary to guess at one’s future,” he shook his head, brows raising at the ridiculous lengths the High Lords would go to secure themselves a future. I should have seen this coming as well. They didn’t need me to tell them their future, only watch my reaction to their plans and listen intently to anything I said. I suppose that was why many famous Seers began to speak utter nonsense when in public. “No worries, love, I would love if you denied each and every request.” 

“I’d be a recluse. A hermit,” I shook my head, scrunching my nose. 

“ _ My  _ hermit,” he waggled his brows. I smiled at the small ways in which my mate wanted me all to himself. We finished the sweets together, taking bites in turn and remarking on our favorites. Lucien’s, to no surprise, was a pumpkin and apple spiced turnover that was glazed with a thick layer of sugar. I favored the berry-flavored cakes. With our stomachs overly full, Lucien turned to me. “Would you like to dance now?” 

“Don’t spin me too fast,” I warned. 

**Rhysand:**

My family joined the festivities with ease. I thought of approaching them but realized now was the best time to slip away unnoticed. Cassian was fully entranced in spinning Nesta in as many circles as he could before one of them fell. Mor and Azriel weren’t too far off but they were to the edges, dancing slower and laughing between themselves. Lucien and Elain were across the river, tasting the pastries Velaris’s bakers had been working on since before the dawn. If Feyre were here, I’d like to think we would have moved among them. Dancing. Eating. Laughing. 

I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets, clenching them tight. I strolled through the crowd in the opposite direction of my court. Mor had asked me countless times leading up to the night if I’d dance with her but I told my cousin no each time. She wanted to dance with me out of honest excitement, we did so annually, but I knew her well enough. She wanted me to dance to show me I still had a place among our family even without Feyre by my side. I loved my cousin for her hopeful outlook but it was wrong. 

I could laugh without Feyre. I knew I could but I didn’t feel like laughing without her. Many times I caught myself admiring my family and feeling the humor of their antics low in my gut but that was where it stayed. Grief made me more reserved with my happiness like it would run dry if I used it too often. _ Or maybe I’d grown used to it being stolen from me _ , I shrugged myself from the thoughts. 

My mate was alive and more determined than ever. She will see Starfall next year. She will be with me in a week. I’d be hard pressed to ever let her go after that and knowing my brilliant, independent and fierce mate: she wouldn’t let me coddle her for a single moment. 

When I got to the side streets and the Sidra was no longer visible, I unfurled my wings and lifted off into the night. A quick stop by the House of Wind and I was flying high above the city. It felt odd to be away on Starfall but the moment I passed through the wards, Velaris fell from my sight and my mind. The forest was an endless expanse of snow-covered pines illuminated by a sliver of moon. Now that winter was in full turn, the night air had turned cold enough for my wings to feel the burn. I pumped them in rapid succession to move the blood. The rest of me was working hard enough to keep me aloft that I was warm from the exertion. My lungs felt bottomless as I sucked in the crisp air that smelled only of freshly fallen snow. 

I held my parcel close to my chest, a poor substitute for the mate I usually held. I hadn’t known what to pack so I ensured I packed anything I could think of. My mate was better at this afterall. A few hours spent pursuing my shelves in the House of Wind and I had an idea of what I needed but without the practical knowledge, there was a lot left to guess. Lucien hadn’t questioned why I wanted to spend my time in the library; he didn’t know me so well as Azriel and Cassian. I only looked to the library when I needed to plan and be sure of all the details. Azriel was the biggest reader as he used it to help build memory and a wider knowledge for his position. 

Though I expected Lucien to question why I’d ever need to know skills like hunting. I suppose his time in the Spring Court had accustomed him to the task as they made a sport of hunting wild animals. I cringed. I shouldn’t judge the Spring Court on that measure. Illyrian’s hunted each other. 

I picked a spot that was casted in the shadow of a mountain. When I landed, I misjudged the depth of the snow and sunk all the way into my thighs. “Fuck,” I cursed, shaking off my legs and using my magic to push the snow away from me. I pushed the snow away to make room for my next step, clearing the area until the snow was barely ankle deep. It looked a little wonky but I figured that hardly mattered. 

I dumped out my sack and pulled the diagram I’d drawn from my back pocket, unfolding it. There never passed a night that I wasn’t grateful for my impeccable night vision. My eyes made do with the dim moonlight and the forest was lit as if it was full day. I moved as quickly as I could, making quick work of cutting off the right lengths of rope. There was an artfulness to it’s design. A very distinct balance had to be met for it to work right. Without prior experience, I could only hope I repeated the instructions correctly. 

I worked on the knots when I felt it. My skin prickled and not from the wind. The eyes, watching me. Behind me was nothing but the shadows casted between trees. I scowled. “Azriel.” 

It was hard to identify just where the shadows ended and Azriel began. It wasn’t like winnowing where there was an abrupt stop and start. Azriel simply became clearer to my eye, less like the shadow and more like himself. With his dark skin and relatively dark eyes, even standing solidly before me he was hard to make out without the aid of my enhanced sight. 

He stepped forward, boot crunching in the snow and not looking the slightest bit guilty for spying on his High Lord and brother. He shrugged, hands deep in his pocket. An amused smile on his face deepened my scowl. I glared harder. “What in the world are you doing here?” he jutted his chin out to my contraption. Only because of my novice status did my cheeks heat while he looked over my hard work with obvious glee.  _ Well _ , a contained glee unique to Az. 

“What are you doing here?” I growled, turning back to the knot I was just working through. 

“Watching you butcher the poacher’s knot,” he breathed out and watching the mist float away. 

I ground my teeth, restarting the knot for the fifth time. “Why didn’t you stay in Velaris then?” 

“Why didn’t you?”

I spun to face him. “Dammit Az—” 

“No, Rhys, seriously,” he snapped back at me, eyes furious. “Why didn’t you stay where you’re safe? Feyre’s absence doesn’t give you full reign of being an idiot. Every major rule you ever set you’ve been bent on breaking. You’re  _ not  _ supposed to be alone, Rhys.” I knew I’d pushed the limits of the rules I set myself. It made me a hypocrite but mostly, a fool. Walking around the Night Court’s territory was not the issue. We both knew I was likely the scariest creature in this forest, barring Amren and Nesta remaining in Velaris. The issue was we were fighting a war. If Hybern had a mind to track me, he could have the perfect moment to take me if Azriel hadn’t shown up. “So let me ask you again: what the fuck do you think you’re doing out here in the middle of the night, away from your family and cursing over some snare?” he waved a hand towards my work. After he spoke, he considered my snare and the sack I’d brought. He figured it out for himself. “What are you trying to trap?” 

I kicked my boot into the snow. “The Suriel.” 

Azriel’s mouth gaped, his shoulders dropped. “Rhys. The Suriel doesn’t answer to High Lords. Ever.” For good reason.  _ We’d really dug ourselves that hole.  _ The Weaver...The Bone Carver...The Suriel. They all refused to make bargains with High Lords. The Bone Carver only spoke to me because it knew Amren lived within my Court, having some fascination with Amren that it never chose to inform me on. 

“I had to try,” I blew out a harsh breath. “Feyre trapped it once. Maybe it makes exceptions.” Azriel’s brows furrowed. I could see the mechanisms of his mind working to store this new information on her. “She hunted before she came to the Spring Court so when she needed information, it wasn’t so difficult to set a trap,” I explained. My mate had a penchant for collecting rarities. Impossibility surrounded her. 

He opened and closed his mouth, formulating words that wouldn’t come. At last, he sighed. “Fine but if you’re really trying this, you’re going to have to let me tie the knot. That wouldn’t hold a bug,” he gestured for me to move aside. He barely had knelt to fix my handiwork before he was standing, throwing the cloak I’d brought over the snare and motioning for me to step away.

“And how do you know how to trap?” Trapping was a skill I never needed. I could track and kill whatever I needed to, trapping was irrelevant until now. Even Illyrians didn’t put a large focus on hunting. Why should they? Animals didn’t fight back. They much rather focus their efforts on taking down each other in a sparring ring where status and power were at stake. 

“Killing an animal is harder when you can’t fly overhead,” he shrugged. I froze. He hadn’t flown like an Illyrian at first. When he’d finally rejoined the camps, he must have had to learn a few alternative methods. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he glared. I averted my eyes. He clapped me on my shoulder. “At least I know how to tie the easiest knot, High Lord. Come on. We have to hide now. If we’re lucky, we might catch a rabbit by dawn.” 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO READER: This chapter contains assault; PLEASE exercise caution when proceeding. You can also skip to the section break ("~~~~") if you'd prefer too as that is where the warning ends.   
> For readers who do not want to read those scenes, I will be posting summary bullet points at the start of the *next* chapter. 
> 
> We're literally right **there** like...next...chapter...
> 
> Riders on the Storm - The Doors

**Feyre:**

It didn’t take long for Dagdan to visit me. I should have killed him when I had the chance and tied up that loose end before he came back for me. And he did. He came back at first light and with a vengeance, having spent most of the night planning our time together. I didn’t know how long he had lived but apparently, long enough to know how to make your nerves peel from your body. When he finished, Jurian would visit sometime later to inspect the damage and see if anything needed healing. I was always healed before Hybern came to see me; I was not healed completely but enough that he could inflict new and fresh bruises and see the results of his effort. 

But I felt stronger anyway. I’d heard my mate’s voice. I was comforted by the knowledge my family was safe even if I wasn’t. I didn’t have to worry for them. Rhysand would protect them while I was gone. They were safe.  _ They were safe.  _

Hybern had failed ultimately. He thought by getting me, he’d get my mate or Nesta and he was wrong. My mate would see to that and so the rest of the task was on my shoulders. Keep my mouth shut long enough to escape and my family would be safe. I’d be back in my mate’s arms. One night of whispered sweet nothings had that effect on me. It renewed my body. I healed faster. Even the meager meals they gave me were just enough for my energy to replenish because my will was unshakeable. Failure wasn’t possible now because I could count on my mate and myself. I repeated this everytime my will wore thin. It was a chant in the back of my mind, just as steady as my heart. 

Dagdan couldn’t break me because it was  _ me  _ and I would not succumb. He could take all the pieces he wanted but he couldn’t take my submission. All I needed was that moment of clarity and the pain became secondary. My worst fears no longer ate at me. I would survive this. I barely blinked at the scabs littering my body. The bruises would heal in time too. I could even look at my tattoo. 

In this way, I kept my chin high. 

Unfortunately, Dagdan understood this as well. He wasn’t getting to me. I’d taken his twin from him and he’d yet to give Hybern a single piece of information. My eyes shone with obvious glee, even if the rest of my face was a wreck.  _ You can’t have me, asshole.  _

Dagdan’s jaw tightened, the muscles working. “Hybern thought he could reach Rhysand through you,” he shook his head. He flipped the knife in his hand and caught it surely again by the flat of the blade. Being such a valuable prisoner as I was, his torture was limited in what it could do. Hybern didn’t want me dying and he was of the belief I’d die rather easy. If they knew Dawn Court healing flooded my veins they wouldn’t be so merciful. It made me incredibly lucky. Dagdan could hardly go further than skin-deep without threatening to flaunt Hybern’s strict orders. What he couldn’t do to me though he inflicted on Tamlin. I spit blood and mucus on the floor. My nose was broken and my throat was nearly choked by the bleeding. I’d never get the stale taste of iron from my mouth. I’d learned to ignore the pain of my shoulders, pinned to the wall, but my stomach still rolled every time I tasted my own blood. “He keeps you alive to reach Rhysand...so focused on Rhysand he barely sees the fault in his own plan.” 

Dagdan did this a lot. The muttering. Apparently, I’d become a substitute for Brannagh. He loathed Hybern’s plans but only voiced that to me. I could have confirmed that Hybern’s plan  _ was  _ inherently flawed in that I refused to reach back out to Rhysand. I wanted to.  _ Cauldron _ , I wanted to. It would be so easy to ask my mate to stay with me, hold me from within my mind and give me an escape from my cell.

I didn’t reach for Rhysand because it was what Hybern wanted. My mate did have the heart Hybern believed he possessed. He couldn’t continually be re-exposed to my torture without it hurting him ultimately, but the temptation was there for me. 

“You’re not speaking to your mate,” Dagdan shook his head. “Hybern thought you’d be so weak, you’d just  _ reach  _ for your mate the first chance you got but he underestimated you,” his black eyes matched mine, long greasy hair obscuring his vision. I didn’t know if I’d lost the ability to scent appropriately because of the rotted fish smell  _ or  _ if Dagdan also smelled of rotted fish. With how unkempt he appeared lately, I was willing to bet on the latter. 

Underestimating me had worked so far. It kept my time with Dagdan short and that left me more time to observe my cell, prod the wards that bound me, and focus on filling my magic. 

“Hybern’s willing to play the long game. This strength of yours might last months but he’d wait. He’s right. Months and you’d be begging for a short...quick death,” Dagdan sighed, pacing the length of my cell. He stopped at one end and stared at the wall. From the ample light in my cell, I thought it was close to midday. Maybe he was done already. I let my head fall back to the wall even though my muscles screamed. My eyelids felt like weights. I didn’t care if Jurian healed me while I was unconscious. The sleep I’d get was worth it. 

When I opened my eyes again, Dagdan stood in front of me. His hot breath washed over my face, eyes wide with rage. “I’m not willing to play that game,” he shook his head. A dull pressure hit my abdomen. I gasped; I hadn’t even seen his arm swing for the punch. My head fell back forward, blood rushing so fast my eyes went white. When they opened, I met with confusion. A handle. Worn, black leather on the handle and a shiny pommel of steel. Dagdan’s knife. It stuck out of me at an odd angle. 

My head fell to the side. I worked through the meaning with great delay. He’d stabbed me. My lungs felt the burn because breathing hurt. Sweat dripped off my temples. I was heating up.  _ Why  _ was I so warm? I might have believed I was on fire because everything near the stab wound was a chaos of tingling and burning. He wasn’t supposed to go this far. Hybern had told him not to.  _ That  _ was supposed to be my safety net but I was falling and there wasn’t a net, or even a floor, to break my descent. 

Then, as if to remind me of his presence, Dagdan withdrew the knife in a single, swift movement. My mouth fell open. Air rushed my lungs. Blood came out faster than I’d ever seen it. My hands moved uselessly at my sides, cuffs weighing them down and my shoulders pinning all movement. 

“Let me know if Rhysand feels this,” he sighed out before stabbing me again. The second one I felt more. I tensed right before impact. The pain was immediate and blinding. New flames licked at me. My body would rip in half. I was sure of it.  I tipped my head back finally and screamed. I’d groaned, cried and grunted but never screamed. It was a point of pride. Tamlin and I had an unspoken agreement not to and I was breaking mine with abandon. 

“Hybern didn’t want you too ruined but I figure he doesn’t need your womb,” Dagdan muttered, withdrawing the knife so fast blood spurted into his tunic. My blood. It was wet and oily, making thick tracks down his blue tunic. It bubbled from me. He stabbed me a third time and I screamed louder, tears squeezed from my eyelids screwed shut. His hand grabbed my jaw, forcing him into my blurry sight. His black eyes sought out mine, seeking something intangible that only someone who tortured often knew to look for. They shined at what they saw. “Finally,” he smiled. His voice was low and deep, purring. “You’re paying attention. Has Rhysand anything to say to me?” 

I didn’t know if even my mental walls were strong enough to hold back the pain of getting stabbed three times. But I didn’t pause to check. I wouldn’t have heard Rhysand even if he was screaming over the roar that had taken control of my body. I was on fire. I was going to burn alive. I shut my eyes to Dagdan. I willed my body not to stiffen in preparation of a fourth strike.  _ I will not succumb.  _

But the next one never came. 

The cell doors opened. Jurian rushed in, screaming at Dagdan. Dagdan didn’t say anything. He watched me. Something fierce in his eyes like pride. Just before Jurian reached him, Dagdan withdrew the knife from my abdomen. Tears spilled over my cheeks, accompanied by gasps and cries. I’d been beaten and mildly tortured but never with the accompanying sensation of dying. I could not feel past my waist. Or wiggle my toes. Or fingers. The weightlessness feeling had but one meaning. Even the burning was giving way to something less. My tongue slid heavily in my mouth, wading in a pool of my own blood. I blinked slowly. 

Jurian shoved Dagdan out of the way, eyes combing over what had to be a gruesome sight. Their voices were beyond hearing now. My ears only listened to my pulse. The slow rush of my blood while my body lost the rest of its supply.  _ Was this how Azriel felt?  _ I could have been flying for how light I felt. Floating on air. I smiled lazily. I was an Illyrian. I leaned my head against the wall, letting sleep reach me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes cracked open. They crusted shut. I wanted to reach my hand up and wipe away at them. My hands were still pinned. My shoulders were still hanging on the wall, warded to iron rods. I looked over the rods. Where they protruded from flesh was an odd sight. Red, inflamed skin edged with yellow mucus-like liquid and scabs that continually reopened. Little drops of blood to remind me I still had an open wound. I knew if I moved my shoulder, I’d feel pain but my mind couldn’t overcome the knowledge.  _ A foreign object was sticking out of me _ . Reflexively, I wanted it out of me. It smelled awful. The iron of the metal and the iron of my blood. The scent of something rotting, knowing its where my skin touched the warded rod.

I scrunched up my nose and turned away. My head hung. My abdomen was heavily bandaged. I couldn’t feel anything. Not my shoulders nor the wounds of my stomach. Maybe I’d reached the part of my torture where it all blends together. I was most keenly aware to how raw and dry my throat was. My lips were chapped. I smiled ruefully.  _ These were my worst aches now: a particularly terrible thirst.  _

“The drush root wasn’t necessary.” 

I glanced up. Jurian leaned on the cell bars across from me. 

His eyes focused on my abdomen. “But the healer thought it better in case your body doesn’t heal fully.” He looked sick, face too pale. His shaggy brown hair was just as slick as Dagdan’s was in grease. One fearful glance later and I sighed knowing Dagdan was gone. It was just Jurian and I. “He did what he could but he’s not from the Dawn Court,” Jurian shrugged like I’d have a preference while being kept prisoner. 

“Are you to report if I died or not?” I asked, voice rough. I tried to clear it but couldn’t summon the energy to do so. I sighed. I’d spent so much time on restoring my magic and this wound set me back. My body was exhausted trying to keep itself alive. 

He glared like I insulted him. “I’m to keep you  _ from  _ dying,” he hissed pure venom, stepping forward with a waterskin. He didn’t wait but pressed it to my lips. Cool water was a blessing and I drank even when the pain grew in my abdomen. I swallowed the entire waterskin, careless that my front was now drenched too. “Hybern will deal with Dagdan,” he walked over to a sack in the corner of the cell. He pulled out a wrinkled piece of meat, greyish. I was surprised how little I cared for it’s taste when I ate it. I just wanted food. My body would hate me for forcing it to digest but I needed the energy. All I could get. 

“It’d be too much to ask for the death penalty,” I sighed. 

Jurian raised an unamused brow. He had a pale of water next to his foot and a cloth. He wiped away the blood smears on me slowly. Unlike most times, the cold water felt refreshing. The memory of burning alive was still fresh. “You’ve almost met the dawn a few times now. Dagdan doesn’t threaten you.” He was right. There were many times I almost and probably should’ve died but didn’t. By fate or luck I was still breathing. 

“And you do?” 

He shook his head, huffing. A hint of an unsteady smile forming. “No, I’m not stupid.” He knelt at the bucket, wringing out my blood and turning the water red. It crusted mostly on my legs. “If Hybern was smart, he would have taken a page from Tamlin’s book,” he glanced up at me. “Tamlin tricked you by relying on your soft...soft heart,” he tsked. He rose back to wipe blood from my legs but I was far from feeling it. I was focused on his next words. My heart was erratic. I didn’t want to hear this. “If I wanted to threaten you, Cursebreaker, I’d drag Tamlin out of his cell and slice his head off. And if that didn’t work, I’d find your family and try it again with them.” He spoke confidently, nodding his head as he rattled off his plan. I held back my whimper, tightening my lips and squinting my eyes. _They were safe._

“Why don’t you?” I ground out.

Finishing wiping me down, he tossed the rag back into the bucket. Blood-stained water sloshed over the rim. He crossed to the door. He held the edge of my cell door, hand stained red in my blood. I stared, unable to tear my eyes from it. Looking over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes. “Not everything works the way you think it will. I’ll be back after you healed some more with the faebane. Hybern’s plan failed. We’ll try again tomorrow, a different method.” He winked, sealing his promise. 

He slipped from my cell and locked the door, strolling out of sight. 

_ Faebane _ , I echoed.  _ No.  _ I couldn’t think of the word.  _ No, I needed to escape.  _ I told Rhysand I would escape. I couldn’t have faebane  _ and  _ escape. How else was I supposed to winnow off this island? How else could I break my wards? My current plan needed my magic. I couldn’t fathom another plan in less than a week. Once again, the safety net I relied upon had been pulled from under me. I swallowed unbidden tears, choking on them and my blood.  _ No. That wouldn’t happen.  _

I released a shuddered breath. I wasn’t swallowing anymore fucking faebane. I was escaping. Tonight. I reached back into my mind, daring to seek out the edges of my mental walls. Stepping beyond them for a moment, I took in the comfort of my mate’s mind just beyond my own. I closed my eyes and said,  _ I am escaping tonight. I will reach for you when I am free.  _

I didn’t wait for my mate’s response. I couldn’t explain without admitting the insanity needed for tonight’s plan. I couldn’t consider all the ways it could go wrong. It had to go right and I’d force it to do so. I closed my mental walls with cool reserve, only choking when I was unreachable beyond them. I needed to think clearly. This had to go as planned. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (02/04 EST): I've added the next part to this chapter and I gotta day I cracked a joke in it that had me cackling like an idiot (none of you will laugh it's a pun and it's terrible)  
> (02/03 EST): This chapter contains gore and for once, I say that merrily!
> 
> Chapter 24 Summary:  
> -Dagdan realizes his efforts to break through to Feyre have failed  
> -He attempts to break her one last time and severely injures her  
> -Jurian stops Dagdan  
> -A healer helps Feyre’s wounds  
> -Jurian tells Feyre that because Rhysand hasn’t gone crazy from Feyre’s torture, that they are stopping that tactic and Feyre will be re-dosed with faebane when she’s healed enough  
> -Feyre realizes she can’t escape under faebane and informs Rhysand she intends to escape
> 
> Cat People - David Bowie

**Feyre:**

I had convinced myself anticipation could be smelled in the air. _The winds of change_ sounds like bullshit until my heart’s beating faster and adrenaline is coursing in my veins, sweat pouring over my forehead. I could smell it, the freedom, and it was close. It was within grasp and my hands were trembling as they reached for it. I forced calm into my body with deep breaths held a little too long. My muscles needed to relax. I couldn’t fuck this up because my hands shook a little too much. But the more I thought of my plan, the worse it became until I was near salivating over what freedom would taste like once I had it. 

With all my swirling emotions, I wanted to check on Rhysand but that would only distract me. I had a feeling all my nerves were coming from my mate, leaking through my mental walls however impenetrable I made them. I couldn’t stop to explain what I was about to do. Partly because I was just as unsure. 

Footsteps down the hallway made my stomach drop. They were even and paced but only Jurian would be coming to visit me. The absence of his usual swagger further disturbed me. He wasn’t ever so collected. He had the appearance of a feral dog. He’d rip out your throat for an extra slice of meat with his morning meal. He stopped at my cell, cocking his head to the side while he considered me. His hands were no longer stained pink with my blood. 

His right hand held the keys to my cell. His left, a water skin, that dangled near the floor by a worn leather strap. He’d come to give me the faebane-laced water. I’d run out of time. 

“Didn’t expect to see me so soon?” he asked. His brown eyes combed my face for my reaction, like he could sniff out the rebellion growing inside me. “What? No response, Cursebreaker?” he sniffed, shaking his head. The keys rattled in the lock. The silent chamber made their noise all the more intrusive. His footsteps scraped loudly on the stone. At least I’d be quiet with my bare feet. 

“I was sleeping,” I lied. I needed to be quick. Faster than I’d ever been before which would be a feat in itself. “Leave so I can get back to it.” 

“No you weren’t,” he snorted, saying no more as he approached me. He raised the waterskin to me, ensuring my eyes saw his thumb pop the cork and the small spurt of water that followed. “Time to drink. Hope you said your goodbyes,” he pressed the edge to my lips. I didn’t open my lips. I couldn’t. The barest taste and my chances were shot. I was just waiting. My lips pressed shut. His brown eyes had always been colorless to me. No vibrancy in them. They were flat and now that I had disobeyed, they became hard. He dug the waterskin into my lips until he hit my gums, pinching my skin painfully. He still stood an arm’s length away, refraining from touching my grime-laden skin. “Drink the water.” I watched him. My heart was racing. _What was I waiting for? The courage?_ All I knew was: not yet. Not yet. Don’t move. It’s not right yet. My instincts picked up on something my conscious mind hadn’t realized. He raised his other hand to grip my jaw. His fingers dug into my skin. I was sure the rotten fish smell came from him too now. His scent was death even if he had been brought back to life. 

He sucked in, cursing under his breath. He stepped closer. 

Those detached eyes focused on my lips, intent on how to pry them apart. How they’d spent so long on Amarantha’s finger like an ornament and now regarded me as a disobedient pet, I didn’t know. His hand on my jaw braced on my sternum, reading to force the faebane into my system. 

_There._

He was close. I used the rods jammed through my shoulders to hold me. The wards would keep me stable. Bringing one knee straight up, I connected with his groin hard with all my fury. He sucked in, snapping over in half. He groaned lowly. His hands at his crotch. The waterskin dropped, liquid spilling onto the stone. When he went down, I used my other leg to land a kick. I’d aimed for his neck but he stumbled back, out of range. I only succeeded in kicking his shoulder. He fell backwards, tossed across the cell. I heard his head crack against the cell bars. They clanged at the impact. He laid on his back, neck bent oddly and half-lidded eyes gazing at me. A little blood dripped from his temple. Even weakened as I was, my strength was considerable. 

Watching him closely, I ripped away the damper on my magic. It sprang forth. No resistance. It was slight when compared to what it once was but it was eager. My scent exploded in the room. It wanted out just as badly as I did. Jurian’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open while his mind tried to make sense of what he felt. My memory took over. I called for the Day Court magic living inside me; it answered so quickly I barely felt the wards shatter. I didn’t waste a single moment on considering my next move. 

I lurched forward, squeezing my eyes shut at the tearing in my shoulders. I ignored the soreness spreading like wildfire in my abdomen. I didn’t breathe, sucking in my cries until I could’ve exploded with them. I leaned all my bodyweight forward, willing myself from the wall I was no longer warded against. My ears screamed at the _schlicking_ noise from my flesh sliding off the rods. My skin tore open again, scabs and poorly rehealed flesh bleeding fresh. Muscle and ligaments crushed now ached at the absence of those damned rods. Hot, slick blood wept from my shoulders now, coating my arms. 

Though I’d been standing for most of my captivity, my impaled shoulders kept me suspended. My legs protested at holding up my body now. My knees almost buckled. Though the healers had done their best, my abdomen wasn’t completely healed. My core barely held me straight. The stone was freezing against the full pad of my foot. I wriggled my toes even though it hurt. Jurian stared at me hard, still dazed and sprawled on the ground. As I came to my full height, drawing my screaming shoulders back and lifting my chin, he remembered who stood in front of him. 

He opened his mouth but I didn’t wait. I swung back my leg and brought my foot directly into his head. It battered into the cell bars, rattling against two. 

_Crack_. 

His eyes flung open at the injury. I swung again. 

_Crack._

Blood dribbled from his lips and his temples now. His shaggy hair was greasy. His eyes still opened, like he’d command himself to move. I swung. 

_Crack._

Each time I swung, the entire cell door rattled loudly. The structure groaned. The hallways echoed with the sound of my foot slapping on his skin, his head cracking against the metal and the resounding clang of the metal. 

I couldn’t say it didn’t feel good. My toes barked. I barely was breathing from the exertion but the sweat this time wasn’t cold. I was warm with effort, power and magic. 

However, I didn’t want to kill him. Jurian didn’t torture me. He never tried to. He taunted me and cleaned up the messes left by those less inhibited. He could claim innocence by saying he only watched it happen. I found that convenient. I didn’t have to kill him. I’d leave that to Hybern. We could call ourselves even then. 

I reached down and pulled the cell keys from his limp fingers. Blood rushed my head. I braced myself on the cage cell, closing my eyes and willing my mind to still. _No spinning._ Not now. I breathed. _In. Out. In. Out._ When I opened my eyes, the floor still swayed but I lifted with the keys in my hand. 

He’d left the door open. He had expected to be the only one using it. I stepped from my cage confidently. I’d observed enough to feel assured in my understanding of the cells. The prisons weren’t guarded on the inside. All prisoners were warded to their walls. No one moved inside that wasn’t supposed to. Soldiers sat outside but I’d worry for them later. 

Tamlin was kept a few cells down. He was considerably worse than I was. He was unconscious, hanging from his rods like a shirt left to dry. Even with the keys rattling loudly in my hands as I jostled with the lock, he didn’t stir. The more noise I made, the more I worried how much of a deadweight he’d be. My shoulders barely healed themselves as it was. I didn’t let myself consider why my abdomen was wet and sticky again. Tamlin needed to wake up. 

With how the smells made my eyes water, I was still surprised that the scent of our unwashed body managed to elicit my gag reflex. But Tamlin’s cell had taken altogether a different scent than mine had. The rotted fish hung in the air but was made worse by the old blood mixed with Tamlin’s scent of roses and fresh earth. _Then the fur smell_. Like a wet dog, the room was musty and aged. Stale with advanced decay. I didn’t react to the sticky floor on my feet. Jurian must’ve only been required to clean up after Dagdan’s visits to my cell. 

Shorter than Tamlin, he towered over me on the wall. His bare torso was an unrecognizable field of bruises, lumpy and distorting to the muscle that once existed. Glancing at my own healed torso, it was a miracle that they never suspected my healing capabilities. Half his hair was shorn closer to his chin than the other side. His left arm still ended in a pitiful stump. He played the role of martyr well. 

“You won’t be dying here,” I hissed out, willing my magic forth into my hands. He still didn’t stir and if not for the slow beat of his heart, he would have made a convincing corpse too. I pressed my hands to the rods sticking from his shoulder and broke the wards off with ease. Only when my hands held his shoulders did he finally wake. 

He looked up with squinted eyes, the once-verdant green reduced to moss. His pupils were abnormally wide, nearly taking up the entire iris. His lips twitched, split in two places. His chest raised, breath hissing. Recognition flitting over his features. “Feyre?” he asked, low and near reverent. I’d threatened Tamlin countless times and he still called my name like a prayer. 

I forced myself to frown. I recalled what he’d done, shunning the present image of his tortured body. How his toes angled in different directions, far from normal. “You’re coming with me.” He didn’t argue. I didn’t know if he could sense the wards were gone or if he wasn’t conscious enough to question me yet. His silence was all the encouragement I needed. 

I sucked in and jerked hard, ripping his body off the rods. He hissed. The normal skin of his face reddened as he held back his scream, a low groan echoing instead. His feet stumbled forward to support his tilting body, one hand clamping on my shoulder for stability. I jerked my head back, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. We froze. My hands supported him by his shoulders and his latched to mine, head dangling a few breaths from my face. The scent was unbearable. The pain was far worse. 

“You can walk,” it wasn’t a question. 

He nodded, saliva dripping from his lip. Eyes pressed shut. It was odd we all did this. Like if I close my eyes, the world can’t touch me. _I’m not here._

I took away my hands and turned to the exit. “Good. Because we need to reach Hybern next.”

“Hybern?” Tamlin watched me warily. _Good._ Some part of his brain was functioning. 

“We’re not leaving without the fucking Cauldron,” I returned, daring him to object. He stayed quiet. His shoulders sagged, exhaustion painting him. The term _High Lord_ no longer applied. Dark, mossy eyes accepting my words without complaint. 

When I was done watching him stare at me, I jerked my chin at the door. Each time we stepped out into the quiet halls, my heart threatened to stop. I had been captive long enough to know the prison well but my observations were limited to my senses. I’d repressed my magic and that left room for error when there could be none. Now that I had my magic, I extended it in every direction that it would go. As far as I could push it without exhausting myself. We still needed magic for our last act of the night: _winnowing._

“There are guards outside the doors. Once they're dead, we need to move fast. Get to the island. Do you have your magic?” I looked back at him. 

He coughed. His eyes following the bloody bandages around my abdomen. “No. They’ve kept me dosed…” _since I kidnapped you_ , I finished for him. The more his eyes flitted back to my wounds, the angrier I got. 

_This is because of you._

“Great,” I hissed, returning to the task of navigating from the prison. It was a small island with many cells. Many empty cells. The King of Hybern didn’t consider too many prisoners important enough to cart them across the Western Ocean. I should count myself lucky. That worked in my favor in some ways. Less disturbances to sound the alarm. Our feet slapped on the floor, not so silent after all. 

I was positive there was only one exit to the prison. It was harder to find as the sound of ocean waves made the inside disorienting. There were holes in the ceiling trailing the hallways but they were too high to reach and barred. Besides, we needed a boat. I didn’t want to spend all my magic winnowing to the island. That skill had always been tough and I was going to need all the help I could get now that it was solely on me to get us back to Prythian. 

_I just needed to get us to the shore. If we were on the shore, Rhysand could get to us._

I didn’t look to Tamlin for confirmation before throwing open the prison door. It was full dark. I wanted to look to the night sky reflexively. I hadn’t seen it in forever. But my eyes were on the soldiers in front of us. I didn’t give them a chance. I launched myself for the closest. He reached for his sword but my hand landed on top of his. I helped him pull out his own sword before jamming it back through his chest. 

After that, I was unstoppable. I didn’t need Tamlin’s presence as I took down one after the other. They could barely shout. I was ramming my poorly crafted weapon through their torsos in lazy strikes that contained all my strength. I didn’t care to watch my back or my body. This was it. They needed to go or I’d die. With nothing to lose, my energy was restored. 

Bodies lay scattered, a few from Tamlin and the rest from me. The ocean waves crashed against the rocky croppings of my small island. Sea sprayed my face, chilling my body. I was coming alive with the scent of salt. The rotting fish was washed off my body like it never was. The stone was slick beneath me with seaweed and now blood. Their bodies now looked like new rock formations in the night. Our escape would be hidden by darkness. 

Tamlin eyed me, watching the sword gleaming in my hand. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “We need to move,” I called. Though I hated to shout, the waves drowned out all voices. I looked at a wooden skiff banging against the rocks below us. 

“Why don’t you just _winnow_?” 

I whipped around. In the doorway to the prison, hanging to the side for support was Jurian. His blue tunic was stained dark, half his hair matted to his forehead. He had the nerve to smile ruefully. Tamlin tensed, watching Jurian before crouching low. His arms spread out, readying to circle prey. Jurian’s gaze flicked between keeping track of Tamlin and watching me. 

“Why didn’t you just stay dead?” I snapped. 

“I still have shit to settle,” he shouted back. “And you made the list, Cursebreaker.” 

I swung my sword, jerking it once towards me to egg him on. “I’ll ensure you stay dead this time.” 

He laughed, leaning heavily on the wall. “You can kill me and I wouldn’t fight back but you’d never get off the island.” I recoiled, willing my features to still with effort. Wind whipped my hair around. I didn’t want him to see my panic but Jurian could smell it anyway. His eyes glinted. “You can’t winnow far, I’ve heard it from Tamlin himself. It’s true. You’ll never get even halfway to the coast. You’re stuck here.” 

I bit my cheek. My eyes stung. _Not fucking now._ I refused to glance to Tamlin for confirmation. I knew he’d betrayed me but I expected the knife in my back to stop being twisted. How could my magic do all it could and it couldn’t fucking carrying me when I needed it to? How was this the weakness that’d keep me caged? It was the night I was taken all over again. I was too weak even when I came so far. 

_No_. “No,” I hissed back, not even sure what I was saying but knowing I had no other choice than to keep trying. “Once I get the Cauldron—” 

“The Cauldron?” Jurian’s head reared back, face scrunching up. “The Cauldron isn’t there. Hybern takes it whenever he leaves.” 

My shoulders threatened to sink but I kept them high. I glanced back to the looming cliffs of Hybern and the dark shadow at the top where the castle was built. “Then I’ll winnow or die trying.” 

“Then you’ll drown in the middle of the ocean.” I glared at him. What would I say? That I was prepared to risk it? Die in the ocean or possibly see my family again? I’d accepted those odds long ago. Jurian stepped from the prison’s door, glancing at Tamlin to make sure he wouldn’t lunge just yet. But Tamlin was just as fucked as I was, if not more. He had no magic. I might only be able to winnow half the ocean but Tamlin would have to swim it all of it. “Not everything works the way you think it will,” Jurian said, eyes urgent. I swallowed, recalling his words from earlier. He nodded slowly like he could make me understand him. “I’m asking you to trust me,” he finished, breathing hard. He reached into his pockets and withdrew something shining. 

Dangling before me were the earrings Rhysand had gifted me. I watched them hungrily. I’d stuffed them between the floorboards, back on the ship and said my goodbyes. Seeing them again pulled at the feelings I ignored inside me. The memories of a secret city and family hidden inside. I wanted to get off this island, not drown so far away from home. My throat was dry. I wanted to see my mate again. 

Decision made, I met Jurian’s dark eyes wondering if I’d ever really learn my lesson.

**Rhysand:**

The war camp was only a fraction of its former self. Anyone who remained was busy taking down the camps and packing away all supplies and rations. A cacophony of noise made the tepid day less pleasant. My teeth were on edge all day. A phantom pain in my stomach followed me wherever I went. It distracted my thoughts even as I refocused them on winnowing my legions to the Relaran Pass. The Autumn Court had left almost as soon as the High Lord’s meeting had concluded. The Summer Court quickly hurried to follow, Tarquin undoubtedly ensuring Beron didn’t raze his land. 

What had slipped through the net of the High Lord’s meeting was what to do with the Spring Court’s soldiers. Tamlin had abandoned entire legions. Lesser Lords without a High Lord to command them. At word of Tamlin’s betrayal, they wisely ducked their heads and kept to themselves. It’d been clear they were left in the dark just as much as we were. Now we had a refugee battalion. The sadistic side of my mind wanted to take over their leadership and have them train with the Illyrians. Or the Dark Bringers. Or the fucking Bone Carver for all I cared. 

It was thought I firmly stomped on. 

Though I doubted I’d find a single one I liked, they weren’t responsible for Tamlin’s betrayal. Even Tamlin wasn’t completely responsible for taking Feyre. We all suspected that a High Lord could have been the spy among us. I’d let my mate leave with that  _ thing  _ knowing of his ties to Hybern. I made fists. The Spring Court soldiers went with the Autumn and Summer Court; they could figure out what to do. I pressed my eyes shut while my gut clenched again. Azriel noted my distractedness. He’d kept a closer eye on me since my attempt at catching the Suriel. 

The creature hadn’t showed up and I didn’t know why I thought it would. The Suriel can sense a High Lord even with their magic dampened. It comes with being all-knowing that the Suriel knows who traps it. In some paradoxical manner, the Suriel allows itself to be trapped and it has shunned the company of the High Lords since the dawn of time, never allowing them to catch it. Apparently, I was no different. Feyre was approved, I was not. 

Now Azriel flanked my left with a vengeance in the days that followed. He must have told Cassian as even Cassian warily watched me but he was less available to stay with me. As the handler of the Book of Breathings, he went with Helion to Under the Mountain to stash the Book in secrecy with Cresseida. 

“What’s bothering you?” Azriel asked when Kier stormed away when I sided with Lord Devlon over him. The Illyrians had dutifully raised all their sorry structures themselves. The Dark Bringers would have to do the same. Az’s mask of cool indifference played through into his voice, coming off flat and apathetic. 

“Besides these squabbling children?” I grimaced. My mask would be my irritation today. In the late morning, my stomach had tightened so painfully I might have lost my breakfast. Now, it was a vague memory that kept me from reaching for lunch. My jaw clenched tight and when it began to ache, I’d relax it only to find it clenched a moment later. My muscles tightened like this too. I glanced around like I’d find my opponent sooner. I waited for the fight to start. For  _ something  _ to tell me what the unseen danger was. 

“Besides them,” Azriel said flatly, glaring at Lord Devlon’s back. Someday, Az would address the question of his bloodline. “You know I cannot get a spy onto Hybern,” he reasoned. 

I raised my brow, confused until I recalled our earlier conversation. Nuala had attempted to slip into Hybern only to be met with wards against all creatures, even Shadow Wraiths. It hadn’t been my favorite news but I couldn’t fault Nuala for not having Feyre’s Spellcleaving magic. Winnowing always came with the danger of running into wards. We didn’t know Feyre had been on Hybern until Nesta had described the throne room. Ever since then, it’d been an effort not to raze the island until it was rubble. 

_ She said she would escape.  _

“I’m aware of that,” I snipped, glaring at my Spymaster. I hadn’t questioned his expertise before; I wasn’t losing myself so much that I’d start now. He stared at my expectantly. The sapphire siphons pulsed to life before fading away. His shadows reached out to me. I wouldn’t be escaping this without answering him. “My stomach hurts,” I answered bitterly, every bit aware of how it made me sound. 

His brows furrowed. It was not the answer he had been expecting. “What?” 

“I said my fucking stomach hurts,” I hissed back, stretching out my jaw. To make matters worse, my right knee ached. It was going to rain today. I glanced at the cloudless sky accusingly. Azriel scanned the Dark Bringers, keeping silent. “What? Aren’t you going to say something?” 

“I don’t have any warm milk for you, so no,” Azriel returned, smile flashing. 

I crossed my arms over my chest. I should have lied. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Relaran Pass was nothing but two mountain ranges running parallel to each other. The western range touched the desert and everything east of it was covered in forest. Except when it got to the higher altitude where the ground was invisible through the dense jungle. No clearings, no grass or low shrubs. Like a net woven fine enough to catch rays of light, the jungle at the mountain tops was nearly impossible to traverse. 

Which made it perfect for setting our camp. We could spread out around the mountain with perfect coverage. I’d have admired the tactical advantage had the humidity not been so intense that the air was clouded by thick fog. Mist shrouded the air. Flying would be difficult but we’d flown through blizzards. I expected the Illyrians would learn to adapt. 

Our first night setting up camp, I’d rearranged my tent exactly as I had it before. As much as it reminded me of Feyre, I didn’t want to forget a single detail. Azriel and Cassian, now released from Helion’s day trip, followed me into my tent after dinner. Mor and Nesta awaited us inside. Nesta sat closest to the brazier without lighting herself on fire, flipping idly through a book on lore. 

I’d no sooner sat than Feyre’s voice filled my mind. My hands clutched the table. Only my mate could reach my mind directly which should have meant relief but at the moment, filled me with shock.  _ I am escaping tonight. I will reach for you when I am free.  _ Almost like she was shutting a door, her mental walls came closed again with an imagined  _ click.  _ I was left gripping the table like a lunatic while my family looked on. Cassian was halfway out of his chair, reaching for me when my eyes met his. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His guarded eyes told me he already suspected but even his cunning ability to guess his opponents next moves would fail in this moment. 

“It’s Feyre,” I said, standing up. “She’s escaping tonight.”

The words filtered over my court's ears, sinking into their minds and resounding in their hearts. The meaning rising to its full potential before heaving us into action. 

Mor grabbed Nesta back from the brazier just as Cassian vaulted the table, kicking a chair back and tipping the flaming pit. I leapt out of his way, calling my magic. Later, I’d fly. Now, I’d escape. Azriel had vanished just to reappear behind me. His left arm circled under mine to reach for my throat, his hand coming up behind my neck, forcing me to either winnow with him or be choked out. I brought my elbow back into his neck, using all my might to throw him off. 

When he stumbled, I took my next step only to have Cassian lunge on top of me. He didn’t give me the option of calming down. He took the collar of my breast plate and pulled me forward to meet his fist. My nose broke. When the shock of impact sent me stumbling, Azriel wrestled my arms behind me. He wrenched them back and up, my shoulders straining. “I’m going to get her even if I have to beat you two idiots to do it,” I snarled. 

Mor glowered from where she stood, crossing her arms. “Did she tell you where to find her?” she challenged, hand resting on the back of her chair. Nesta stood next to her, watching me with vague contempt. 

“No but I should move—” 

“When Feyre gives you something to move on,” Mor finished coolly. “You’ve no idea where you’re going and you’re prepared to what?” she waved her hands. Mor had no power over illusions like I did but between her fingers I swore I saw the future I so desperately wanted. The one that had been taken from me almost two weeks ago. “Winnow all over the Summer Court? Fly overhead until one of Hybern’s foot soldiers shoots you with an ash arrow? We’re going to get Feyre back and not one of us is marching off to die before that can happen.” 

My nose dribbled blood. I swallowed even though the taste of iron turned my stomach all over again. “If she’s close then I need to go to her. I don’t care.” I didn’t elaborate. It could be assumed to be all encompassing. I didn’t care if I had to get shot, stabbed and beaten in the process. I’d find my mate. I’d be there for her this time. 

“She told you she would escape. She’s doing that now,” Nesta stated. Her eyes were cold wells of steel, her jaw matching mine in tightness. The power Nesta contained in her begged everyone to either force themselves to look away or fall into the lure of her gaze. “Do you not trust her?” 

I glanced away. I hated myself for saying what I did but I couldn’t acknowledge the logic of Nesta’s words. I forced my muscles to loosen so Azriel no longer had to threaten dislocation and Cassian didn’t have to loom besides me, fists ready. “You can let me go,” I breathed out. Their eyes watched me a moment longer. “Now,” I barked when they hesitated. Azriel dropped my arms and my brothers stepped back, still observing me. 

Their lingering gazes had followed me since Feyre was taken and I had done my best to temper myself. I’d kept a close eye on my self-destructive tendencies. I failed in many ways but I believed I did a decent job ultimately. They did this for my benefit after all. They wanted to keep me safe until Feyre could return. Not lose us both. These were concepts I knew and understood but could not accept. Not now, when Feyre was on her own and should have her mate by her side. 

They didn’t understand how my body was tearing me apart the longer I stood still. All day, something had been amiss and now the sensation was amplified. Even before Feyre had reached out to me, my body recognized the danger that was on the horizon. It was a warning they asked me to ignore. The last time Feyre was in danger, I’d been faced with the same situation. My body begging me to act. Move faster. Think smarter. Defeat Amarantha before she could execute her endgame and I hadn’t. And Feyre had died. 

I closed my eyes. “We’ll give her till midnight.” I let my words hang. Let them attempt to challenge me. None of them did. 

“And we’ll go to her together,” Cassian nodded, lips twitching in what would have been a comforting smile. His words didn’t placate me though. My stomach was still aching. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a really hard chapter to write, i'll have to revise tomorrow but let me know: did it go where you thought it would? ;)
> 
> Cringe - Matt Maeson

**Feyre:**

Jurian and I stared each other down, eyeing and assessing. I was the one with the sword. Jurian had one as well but I think we both knew I would be faster on the draw: cornered animals were like that. Besides, mine was unsheathed and glistening with freshly spilled blood. I had a head start. Cassian’s voice in my ear silently guided me _ , find an opening and take it. Be swift but not reckless.  _ My training had been grueling but I had it to thank for the reason I wasn’t shaking now, weak as I was. 

But Jurian held out my earrings like they might undo a spell I was under and I hated to admit he was right. They were Velaris, my home and my mate all bundled into one. I would have to work with him to get there. I cursed myself twice. I had the magic inside me to winnow the entire continent of Prythian but not the control required. I was my own worst enemy tonight. 

I glanced back to the towering cliffs of Hybern. I had no idea if there were watchtowers or when the soldiers changed shifts. It was a miracle we were undiscovered up until now. The prison was so far below the cliffs that we all would blend well into the rocks but I looked at the beach, only a short distance by boat. Anyone coming through the cove would see us and we had nowhere to hide. 

I had nowhere to go. 

“I’m going to approach and you’re both not going to kill me,” Jurian glanced between us. Tamlin was further back, closer to the ocean but he could have reached Jurian with a few determined steps. Though Tamlin wasn’t looking at Jurian at all. He stared at the rocks before him and the bodies scattered. 

I refocused on Jurian and met him halfway. I swiped the earrings before Jurian extended them fully to me. They were warm in my hands. Holding them, I could see Jurian as a possible ally. That was a comfort, I decided while my chest heaved. I was exhausted from the small amount of energy I expended. My shoulders were bleeding still from where the rods skewered me. My feet were cut up from the rocks and I didn’t want to see how dark my abdominal bandages had bled. We needed aid.“I can’t take us all the way to Prythian but I can get us to where Hybern won’t find us,” he offered. 

I ground my teeth. “No, we go to Prythian.” 

“I wasn’t resurrected with all the fucking magic you have,” he sneered, nose flaring. Those fae ears flicked around. “Not all of us get so lucky, Cursebreaker. I don’t have the magic and you don’t have the skill,” he pointed out, waving his hand to the waters I would have surely drowned in had I tried. The well of despair always threatening my outlook yawned wider.  _ You should be used to failing by now, Feyre _ , it called.  _ You should have expected this.  _ How could I have ever thought I was strong?

“How do you know Hybern won’t find us? What place would you know of?” Tamlin glared, arms tensed. His right hand was in a fist. His left arm was just as taut. 

Jurian snorted. “I’m just as old as you, asshole,” he said with disgust. Jurian was alive in the War. He was human, but he fought there too. He hadn’t spent his years as a ring ornament unconscious but very  _ very  _ aware. “But,” Jurian called me from my thoughts, eyes carefully guarded, “once we’re there you can call your mate to your  _ heart’s  _ content, far from where Hybern could trap you.” He knew the effect his words had on me. Of course he did. He seduced and tortured Clythia who was famous for her hatred of humans. He had long ago mastered this game. 

I looked at Tamlin, half-expectantly, but the male was stoic. His gaze was on the gathering clouds to the north, face swathed in shadow. His once-gleaming hair was dull and just as unruly as Jurian’s. If he heard at all, he didn’t show it. 

“You don’t have another choice.” 

My sword was against Jurian’s neck before he was done speaking. Tired as I was, I pushed myself to hold onto my will. “Don’t tell me I don’t have another choice,” I snapped. Jurian was abnormally calm for a male with a sword resting on his pulse. Our eyes were locked across my wet blade and when I saw the calculations begin in those cunning brown orbs, I pressed my sword harder. “I’m debating all sorts of choices tonight and I can still choose to drown on my own terms. How do I know this isn’t another trap?” 

“If I wanted to trap you, I’d raise the alarms,” Jurian retorted, eyes leaving mine to go to the cove behind us. “We don’t have time for this. Any moment, those soldier’s replacements will arrive and when they find a masare, I don’t want to be here,” his voice dropped low until the ocean waves nearly drowned it out. “Nothing works how you think it will.” 

“Then I’ll make it work,” I responded, not leaving his dark eyes. “Get over here or get left behind,” I shouted at Tamlin. I hated myself. I really did. I’d escaped my confines and came to the last stretch of my imprisonment only to trip over my own two feet.  _ That  _ was true powerlessness. I could have all the power in the world but until I could act on my own, I’d never be strong enough.

But I slipped my hand into Jurian’s cold fingers and lowered my sword. He gripped mine so tightly I thought he meant to break them at first. I refused to wince. Tamlin clapped his hand onto Jurian’s shoulder and without preamble, we were torn from the world. Wind roared in my ear.  _ Had it always been so loud _ ? My stomach flipped as we winnowed. I never recalled the experience with Rhysand to be as unsettling as it felt without him. The world spun around us, shrouded in a cloud of darkness, and if I just let go of Jurian’s hand I’d be torn into that impenetrable black just the same. 

Then, my neck snapped back. My side slammed into a barrier. My shout was lost in the wind but it wasn’t the same as when we winnowed. This wind smelled of salt and sea. Then I was falling. My stomach lifted inside me, hair streaming around me as I crashed towards the earth without anything to break my fall. And my foolish brain didn’t panic because I’d gone so long with Rhysand being there to catch me. The clouded sky above was my last sight before I fell into the ocean’s awaiting arms. 

My back erupted in flames of being struck all at once. My mouth opened and water rushed in. My body locked up in the cold that filled me. It choked me, threatening to fill me with ice. I’d lost my sword somewhere in the fall. Moving my hands took all my strength, the wounds in my shoulders still wide open and now flushed with salt water. The ocean tossed me about until the direction of up was nearly lost to me. The world was pitch black around me. All my aches and pains assaulted me from the way my limbs were jerked around. I furiously fought for the surface, kicking and clawing until I broke it. I gasped my first breath of fresh air only to have another wave crash over me. 

This time I came back up easier, swimming coming easier when I knew which way was up. For a moment, I was alone in the sea being tossed around. The salt, once so comforting, now felt cloying like it’d readily drag me under. The ocean was eerily quiet unlike at the prison where waves crashing against rocks swallowed all my hearing. Out here, there was nothing and nobody except for the water. I gasped and raised my left hand, thinking I’d lost them. Sure enough, clenched between my pale and rapidly-pruning fingers were my earrings. I choked on my relieved laugh, eyes watering. I sucked in raggedly, trying not to give into my panic. 

_ I’d find a way. I would. I would. I will.  _

Jurian crested the waves right next to me, spurting water and cursing. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Tamlin shouted from behind me. Tamlin had a harder time keeping his head above water. His previous numb demeanor having been completely replaced as soon as the icy ocean hit him. 

“What did I do?” Jurian screamed, eyes wide in outrage. “We hit a ward. A fucking ward in the middle of the ocean,” Jurian splashed, waving towards the open ocean before us. I saw nothing, just waves until it bled into the night sky where the horizon was indiscernible. I made slow, tentative strokes to where Jurian gestured and sure enough, my body bumped a wall just as solid as any real one. It was like and unlike Velaris’s in almost every way. Powerful and old but solid and easily discernible to the touch. I couldn’t explain it but the magic felt thick like hard leather. Velaris’s wards were a woven network of fibers that formed a strong, pliable barrier. This ward felt like a stone wall. 

“Something is hidden,” I said, pressing my hand against the air and watching as it flattened on the barrier. 

“Can you break the ward?” Jurian asked next. I didn’t have to look to feel the weight of their eyes. I’d have to break the ward. Otherwise we were stranded. 

My magic was feeble from earlier but I’d have to wrest out something. I called on my Day Court magic in spite of my exhaustion. I was sure I was bleeding into the water. My head pounded the moment I opened my channel to my magic. It could have been real or imagined but my hand glowed as I pressed it to the ward. It reacted just as a stone wall would have, showing no product from my efforts. I scoured deeper into myself. Magic was a well that I alone drew from and I scraped at the bottom of mine, having spent it all healing myself and breaking those wards before.

My body warmed from the strain. The water drove me into the ward continuously, shifting me around and forcing me to kick harder to keep my place. I breathed fast and hard, both my hands pressed against the ward though one of them held my earrings tightly. Clenching my eyes shut, I gritted my teeth. My shoulders were on fire. I’d bleed out into these waters just trying to force my magic out. It came to me in a dribble that slowly built in power the longer I held it, the longer I demanded it. 

My hands slowly sunk into the ward, the air around them glowing like molten metal. The ward sucked me towards it, the water urging me forward. “Hold onto me,” I ground out; the skin on my arms sizzled. They rushed towards me, grabbing onto my arms. The raw magic sparked and crackled. I thought of Nesta, of what she endured, and pushed forward. The waves crested and this time, carried us directly into and through the ward. 

I released the magic the instant we passed over. The ward remained just as untouched and solid behind us. Something inside me snapping loose until my muscles and bones turned to jelly. I barely kept afloat, the waves tossing me about. Salt water burned my chapped lips and I swallowed some, just managing to cough it up. The sky was so cloudy above, not a star in sight. Even the moon was hidden from me. 

“Not today, Cursebreaker,” Jurian grunted, arm grabbing my waist to tow me with him. He swam towards an island that hadn’t been there a moment before. I scanned over it’s black rocks and dense foliage with lazy eyes. I wanted to swim on my own but my arms were limp. Moving was a struggle. Staying conscious was near impossible. I was sapped of all magic and will. 

Jurian had to drag me out of the water and onto the beach, tossing me on my back. Sand coated my neck. The waves licked my bare feet, stinging the thousands of cuts they had. I was sure sand wouldn’t help the wounds of my abdomen and shoulders but I couldn’t find it in me to care. They’d been impaled less than a day ago, flushed with salt water and pushed beyond all reasonable limits. They’d survive some sand and dirt. 

We panted on the beach. None of us moved. Jurian collapsed a pace away from me. None of us mentioned why there was a ward on some lonely island. The night stretched out above us and I stared at it, searching for a star or maybe some dark wings. I closed my eyes, slipping into my mind. I opened my mental walls and breathed out, ready to be done with this nightmare. I had nothing left to offer. Rhysand would have to peel me off this beach and sling me over his shoulder but I didn’t think he would care. I let a silly smile rise at the thought. 

_ Rhysand,  _ I breathed. His name had a sugar sweetness on my tongue. I’d escaped. I was close to seeing him now. I’d be home soon.  _ I’m on an island and I’ve no clue as to which one _ , I giggled foolishly at the ridiculousness. This would be the height of my crazy adventures. Guiding refugees into the caves leading to Under the Mountain? Setting Hybern’s convoy of explosives on fire while I stood on it? Winnowing right underneath Brannagh and Dagdan to save my mate and our family? They all paled in comparison in terms of sheer incredulity. 

I straightened.  _ Rhysand?  _

I called out more but spoke to an empty room. Something barred access to my mate. A solid wall. I hissed.  _ The stupid, fucking ward... _ I’d have to wait until my magic replenished before even attempting to pass again through the ward and calling Rhysand. Once again, my eyes stung. Each new obstacle I faced tested me and I was slowly whittled down to the bone by them. 

I was distracted from my despair by the sound of approaching footsteps. All of us popped our heads from the sand to watch a group of people emerge from the dense forest. My body protested moving, I clutched handfuls of sand uselessly. I’d have to fight with what I had which, admittedly, wasn’t much. Jurian was already to his feet, crouched and ready. Tamlin stood but he was weaponless and still severely wounded. I forced myself to my knees, rising into a weak crouch as well. 

The group that met us was a combination of fae and humans. I didn’t have time to question this. They parted and a towering male stepped forward. My eyes landed on the wings poking over the male’s shoulders and I swallowed, forcing all memories away. His eyes searched us all. They didn’t make it past Jurian. His dark skin flushed at the sight of Jurian, eyes widening. He recoiled and Jurian tensed in kind. “Jurian?” he dared. 

Jurian huffed, lips peeling back to reveal gritted teeth. His fists tightened which caused my stomach to drop.  _ Not allies, then _ . I forced my hands to make fists as well. The odds were poor but I was used to that. I swallowed all thoughts I had of freedom again, finding imprisonment greeting me like an old friend. “So this is where you’ve gone off to, Drakon.”

The name scratched at my memories.  _ The Seraphim that vanished after the war?  _ I squinted. 

“You were Made,” Drakon said. Drakon’s dark eyes scoured Jurian’s face, taking in the fae attributes with a clenched jaw. His nose flared. “Were you the one who broke through our wards?” 

“And if I was?” Jurian ground his teeth. 

Drakon stiffened, eyes glancing back to Tamlin and I with variable interest. He’d been an ally in the War but I didn’t know who he was now. At the moment, he was the one with the weapons. He drew in a long breath, chest rising as he turned from Jurian to face us all. “Which of you threatened our wards?” he asked, scanning our faces but not so much with Jurian. 

“Don’t fucking turn away from me now, we’ve only just been reunited,” Jurian seethed. “You abandoned me.” 

Drakon stiffened. He faced Jurian, flaring his nostrils. “You’re wearing Hybern’s colors, Jurian. It seemed I made the right decision.” 

That was all it took. Jurian lunged for Drakon. One of the human archers was faster, arrow striking Jurian’s leg and felling him just as he had done to me in Adriata. Jurian screeched with rage, ignoring the arrow to reach for Drakon’s throat. I tensed, involuntarily cringing as his veins popped out in all his anger. The rest deployed with practiced precision, seizing hold of Tamlin and I by our shoulders and arms. One of their fingers pressed on the open wound of my shoulder and I sucked in. My back arched from the pain. They drove us down, my face planting in the sand. A knee went into my lower back. My abdomen had definitely not healed completely. I gasped, sucking in even when sand coated my throat. I tightened my grip on Rhysand’s earrings, willing them to give me strength or courage.

Drakon’s voice carried over Tamlin and I’s noises of protest. I squeezed my eyes, trying to keep them clear of the sand. “You’ve brought Hybern’s dogs to our doors, Jurian. You’ve compromised our wards, endangering this entire island. Why shouldn’t I have you all imprisoned or killed?” I struggled feebly against the soldiers that held me, angry with myself and Jurian. I glared at Drakon, ally or not he had us all in chokeholds. 

“You’re a traitor,” Jurian snapped even as a soldier pinned him to the ground.

Cold pressed against my neck and I ceased my struggling. A sword prepared to be driven clean through my neck. I gulped, heedless that my throat was coated in sand and salt. “You’re not the same male you once were, Jurian. I’ve no place for Hybern’s dogs here,” Drakon shook his head, raising his hand for the signal. I reached for the mental bond even when I knew it was a dead end. I’d try anyway if this was it. I bit my lip when I hit the wall. 

When I opened my eyes, I faced Tamlin. His green eyes, panicked, met mine from where they held him. We read the fear in each other’s eyes this time equally. Neither of us were keeping our screams back anymore. This was it. A pair of hands holding my wrists behind me, a knee in my back and a sword through my throat. I opened my mouth, ready to say something but unsure what. 

Tamlin looked away towards Drakon. “Wait,” he hissed, resisting their attempts to subdue him from speaking. One grabbed a fistful of hair, slamming his face into the sand. “Wait,” he shouted. “You’re mistaken. Jurian was helping us escape,” he rushed to admit. 

“That does not make you friends of mine,” Drakon replied solemnly. “I do not associate with cruel—”

“You’re wrong,” Tamlin’s voice was powerful, even as he spoke into the sand. He looked at me and my stomach began to drop again. “You’re preparing to execute your own allies. Unless you don’t consider Rhysand your ally,” he taunted. This caused all those present to freeze. Drakon must have motioned for them to let up as the soldier removed his hand from the back of Tamlin’s head. Tamlin stared at me, not at Drakon, when he declared, “She’s Rhysand’s mate. Are you prepared to execute the Lady of the Night Court?” 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (02/07): i know SJM has some kind of backstory for Prince Drakon but like, bare with me until I can get a word in on this so called backstory, okay? okay.   
> (02/06): this will be expanded on tomorrow, I wanted to write more but I got a migraine right now,
> 
> Go Easy - Matt Maeson

**Cassian:**

Nesta was tired. She spent most of her day with Madja as the master healer dictated what Nesta would learn when she wasn’t training with Amren. But I knew she wouldn’t sleep. Not now and normally, not without me. Even with me it was a scarce bet that she’d actually find sleep but today she seemed worse off than normal. Her eyes were nearly half-closed as she skimmed the book in front of her. She kept biting her lower lip. It only got worse knowing this night would be a long one. 

We’d yet to hear back from Feyre and so we all committed to standing in the same five square paces of tent until we did. This included Rhysand, Azriel, Mor, Nesta and myself. None of us so much as mentioned leaving or turning in for the night. If I extended my hearing towards them, the answer for this was obvious: worry had us all seizing. Our heartbeats were erratic. 

Mor nobly attempted to turn our attention to planning the defense of the Relaran Pass. It worked for the moment. The mountains were familiar territory to both the Night Court and Winter Court. The only obstacle we had to work against was the low visibility. Even in the middle of winter, in the Summer Court mountains all the humidity turned to a chill mist that blanketed everything. It would be easy to get lost up here if a person didn’t have enhanced senses. I’d been worried at first for how Nesta would adapt but she walked through the fog like it wasn’t there. 

Rhysand had Azriel fix his broken nose and let it heal as is, refusing to see Madja for something he referred to as a _minor inconvenience._ Not possessing Feyre’s same inclination towards rapid healing, a purple bruise banded his nose and cheeks. I didn’t regret punching him though. It was the best way to get through to his stubborn mind and it was. Sometimes I wished Rhys or Az would just punch me when my instincts overtook me. A shock like that would be quicker and a sure way to end the panic. 

I looked at Nesta, resting her forehead on her hand and gazing down at her book. She hadn’t flipped the page in the past few minutes. Tomorrow, she’d be going with Cresseida to the caves to read the Book. Amren insisted she try. I wanted to go but Cresseida could winnow Nesta straight into the caves. I had to fly and then walk in. I never before bemoaned my lot as an Illyrian, despite my upbringing and the people’s issues, but moments like this made me direly wish to be fae. I didn’t want to let Nesta out of my sight even when I knew she’d be in the war camp, far from Hybern and close to me. Her going Under the Mountain? I didn’t know how much a male could worry before they drove themselves to insanity. 

Besides, the caves had been darker than I expected. Amarantha had succeeded in modeling them after the Court of Nightmares; however, I hated Under the Mountain more so. It represented all those years Rhys spent away from us, shielding us while we sat useless in Velaris. _Just like Feyre is doing now_ , I grumbled. 

It's been too long already. Rhysand’s fingers drummed on the table while he debated moving the Dark Bringers further down the range. He played the part so well of a bored male considering strategy, completed by the wine glass he hadn’t touched. None of us gave a shit where the Dark Bringers moved. Though I didn’t want to go after Feyre. If we didn’t hear from her, we would have to and that meant something had gone wrong. I didn’t want things to go wrong. Not while she was beyond our protection, our help. I ground my teeth together, thinking back to the stubborn female I met who trained at night just to learn to protect herself. How determined and hopeful she was. 

She’d been through this before, apparently. Under the Mountain hadn’t been easy for her either and she had a knack for surviving bad times. I used these thoughts to steady myself. _Soon._

Nesta was looking at me when I looked back. Her eyes were still. That was another trait I loved about Nesta. She didn’t focus on two things at the same time. Her attention was undivided or nonexistent. When she looked at me, she saw me more so than anyone else did. Earlier, she’d seen me barking orders at the Illyrians and I didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness. She didn’t see my mask. She saw me. 

Her gaze moved to the tent flap and my ears picked up the approaching footsteps. My heart rate jumped like everyone else’s and Rhys was to his feet before the tent flap opened. But it wasn’t Feyre. 

Lucien stood in the doorway with Elain tucked under his arm. They both were dressed in Day Court robes, looking too fine to be standing in this shitty tent. Elain even had darker freckles. 

“Elain-” Nesta started. 

Elain shook her head, stepping fully into the tent with her mate. The two of them appeared slightly out of breath. Her eyes were a little red. I could smell the salt mixed with the honeysuckle. I decided it was better if Elain couldn’t share her visions. But to my horror mixed with relief, Elain slid a letter out of her pocket and handed it directly to Rhysand. He stared at the letter for a long stretch of silence before taking it from her. 

Gulping, he said, “I’m not going to like this.” 

Elain remained quiet, eyes revealing nothing. She folded her hands over one another and took a step back to Lucien who drew her close to him. The sound of unfolding paper filled the room. 

Seers used to be called on for advice. The last one used to appear at every dinner or fine gathering though they were notorious for being bad guests: arriving late and leaving very early. As Rhysand read over her letter, I could see now why that was. They were fate personified. They didn’t choose the future but they were the closest thing to fate that a person could direct their anger at. Like the Mother had painted a target on Elain’s back for everyone who drew a shitty card to blame for. 

After Rhys finished, he folded the letter again and slipped it into his own pocket. “You’ll come back if there is more?” he asked quietly. I tried to discern what he felt by his voice but only succeeded in hearing how tired he was. 

“I will the moment I can,” Elain nodded dutifully. Her mask slipped for her brows to come together, lips frowning. “I’m sorry I can’t say more.” 

Rhysand shook his head, raising a hand to halt her apology. “Thank you, Elain. Without this, I never would have known.” She tried to offer a trembling smile but only succeeded in tightening her lips together. She dipped her head to the rest of us before slipping out of the tent without another word. I wanted to go after her. I had a few questions myself but I would save that for another day. Right now, I wanted to know the contents of Rhys’s letter. He sighed, shaking his head. “You can all leave.” 

Mor leaned forward. “What?” 

“What does the letter say?” Azriel asked.

“Riddles weren’t my strong suit but at least I can discern Feyre is...she escaped. But she won’t return tonight...not yet I guess,” Rhysand shook his head. A small smile played on his lips though his hand half covered his mouth. He huffed a laugh next, bowing his head. I felt like my gut had been struck with a log. 

I barked a loud laugh, my muscles lost all their previously held tension. _She’d escaped. She’d done it._ I wanted to get her back but right now, escaping was a good step forward. It was a fucking leap forward since Rhys had been held captive for months in the last war and never escaped. Of course, Rhys had one seventh the powers Feyre had but one couldn’t help but credit the female for her savviness. That stubborn survivor showed itself once again. 

“You guess?” Nesta asked, narrowing her eyes. Nes was the only one not comforted by Rhysand’s admission. She was awake and nearly shaking from how taut her body went. “Then where is she?” 

Rhysand sighed. His shoulders sagged as he leaned forward onto his knees. All bones in his body were turning to liquid as he relaxed. The tension in the room dissolved with the confirmation that Feyre had escaped. Mor slumped in her seat, bowing her head forward. “Safe.” 

“Then why can’t you go get her?” Nesta ground out. She didn’t sound angry. Her voice wavered and it came out as desperate. The strain wracked Nesta’s frame from her hands gripping the table to the impeccable rigidity of her spine. 

“I can’t,” the small glimmer in his eyes guttered out with the admission. “I want to. But I can’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “But for now...for now safe is good.”

**Feyre:**

All motion and sound stopped until the waves and the loud huffing of my chest filled my ear. I’d had to stop listening to my own heart as it’s frantic beat drove me mad. I froze my muscles in preparation for what was to come. They rebelled but I ignored them. I needed to be ready. I thought when Drakon was revealed that he was an ally but how things had escalated, I decided it’d be safer to keep my associations with the Night Court quiet. Just until they didn’t have a knife at my throat _.  _ Why Tamlin thought this was the  _ strategic _ move was beyond my comprehension. I prayed he was right because the cold steel at my neck was getting warm the longer it rested there when I much preferred to not feel it at all. 

“What?” Drakon’s rich voice echoed into the silence. With my head pressed down, I didn’t get the luxury of seeing his expression. The soldiers holding me fidgeted in the uncomfortable gaps Drakon left. I wanted to turn, to commit their faces to memory, but they held me firm until my ribcage ached. One had their boot resting on my ankle. Another held my arms wrenched behind me. The third pressed my face into the sand to keep my neck still for when they swung the sword. 

I wanted to hiss that they used five soldiers to restrain Tamlin in a similar position to me. If I had all my magic, I’d incinerate this beach even if it took me with them. My rage burned white hot inside me till my thoughts were erratic and mostly came in violent images. I was sick of being held down. I decided Drakon might have been an ally before but he was no friend of mine. I’d part ways with the male once he called off his soldiers. 

The shifting of sand caught my attention. Someone had walked to my left side, likely Drakon. I had been beaten, stripped, stabbed and mutilated but laying on my chest while Drakon inspected me made me feel truly bare again. The wind brushed my bare back, chilling the salt water now crusting on my skin. Sand had wormed its way into all my clothes and itched at my open wounds, making them inflame. My greasy hair obscured my vision. The frigid water licked at my toes. All of that combined with the hair-raising sensation of being watched like prey. 

“I saw these before but these aren’t mating tattoos,” he muttered. His voice was soft and contemplative; painfully, I recalled Lucien and bit my lip to keep the shudder at bay. “These are for a...bargain?” he sounded out and brushed his fingers along my left arm. I jolted, instinctively drawing away from him. The Attor’s handiwork had healed over but the wound was fresh as ever to me. My lower back muscles twitched painfully. I was undecided if I wanted to run or curl into a ball. I wouldn’t blindly submit to whatever prompting Drakon performed. If he wanted to cut my head off on a beach then there was no sanity left to instill in him. I wouldn’t die begging. I tightened my jaw, squeezing my burning eyes shut. 

“Stop fucking around with her,” Jurian hissed, spitting vehemently even as the soldiers struggled to keep him subdued. He was butted in the head with the pommel of a sword and he relaxed into the sand. His skull took quite the beating, no thanks to me. 

Drakon didn’t touch me but his next words were just as invasive, “What’s in your hand?” He waited a moment before sighing. “I still have a sword to your neck. I’ll ask you again. What is in your hand?” 

“Open your hands,” Tamlin insisted, eyes pleading. His face was dark from his straining with all the blood rushing. They nearly had a chokehold on him. Even weakened and bleeding, Tamlin resisted being forced to the ground. Each soldier was sweating attempting to keep him still, muttering and cursing at him. “Open your hands, don’t die on this beach,” he begged. 

“Go  _ fuck  _ yourself,” I spat out, tasting sand on my lips and unsure which male I was talking to. All of them. None of them. I didn’t want to die but I didn’t want to beg. My head was slammed back into the ground. My breathing was cut off as I tried to suck air through densely packed sand.

“Feyre,  _ please _ ,” Tamlin groaned, heedless that they were nearly slicing through his neck as he struggled towards me. 

Tears unbidden leaked through my tightly clenched eyes. Drakon laughed breathlessly. “Fine, cut  _ his  _ throat and we’ll see how obedient you are—” 

“No,” I screamed, voice cracking and hoarse. “No, please,  _ no _ ,” I choked though I didn’t know whose life I begged for. I’d been here before. This beach had been stone and these people all the High Fae of Prythian but I’d been here. The shock of my memories forced me to release my death grip on my pride, my stupid  _ stupid _ ego. I couldn’t let them die because of me. 

I opened my hand so quickly the earrings almost fell out. With my sweaty palm kissed by the breeze, my last secret was given up. Drakon swore. “I didn’t know,” he swallowed, “that Rhysand had a mate.”

I didn’t respond. I kept my eyes clenched shut and my hand open, fearful that if I faltered on either end I’d watch Tamlin’s head roll from his shoulders. Cold sweat drenched my body when his footsteps receded. 

The spell lifted. “Help them up,” Drakon snapped. “Get the fuck off them.  _ Now _ ,” he barked out. The soldiers lifted from me and went so far as to heave me to my feet. I had just enough consciousness to remember to close my hand in time. Blood rushed to my face and my eyes saw white. I couldn’t find my footing so my feet twisted under me, knees buckling. One soldier hooked arms with me intime to catch my descent. Now that they had lifted the sword from my neck, my body had resumed it’s swell job at killing me itself. My drained magic did nothing to slow the steady trails of crimson; if any of them had been more severe, I’d likely have died when I pushed through the ward. “Get them to healers...even Jurian but keep him contained. See them fully cared for. Tadeo, I’m putting you in charge of this,” he shouted orders until his voice was hoarse. 

My arm was slung over a soldier’s neck, maybe Tadeo. They must not have recognized the gaping holes in my shoulders as I was covered head to toe in sand, blood or a grisly amount of dirt. I gritted my teeth and sucked through them. “We’ll be there soon,” the female prompted. Someone slung a cloak over my bare shoulders. “Our healers will take care of you,” her voice was melodic, like Drakon’s. Everyone on this island had a voice that could lure me to my death and willingly so. My fingers might have brushed wings but they didn’t again. I curled them tightly so my nails dug into my palm. 

I nodded and kept nodding to keep from passing out. I was concerned if I fell unconscious, I’d wake up in another prison cell. My mind oscillated violently between wanting to fall into a deep oblivion and the desire to return to Rhysand’s side, shock flooding my system every so often. Every time my mind drifted to sleep, my body would stiffen and my head would rise in protest. It knew I was meant to be somewhere else, with someone else. The female at my side didn’t comment even as I convulsed in her arms. She held me as gently but securely as she dared to, whispering encouraging sentiments that might have sounded coddling had I been more aware.   
Someone commented that we were moving too slow. A unanimous and silent agreement passed between the group of humans and seraphim. The female besides me swept me off my feet, curling me against her. My stomach and head dropped as we rose above the treeline. The weightlessness was right this time. It wasn’t at all like the times I fell because I was secure, even in this strange female’s arms. In a few steady sweeps of her long, white wings we settled into a rhythm of dipping and soaring. My body swayed comfortably, all the tension held inside me came to the surface to be swept away on the cool night air. It kissed my skin and blew away my misgivings until peace overcame me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I opened my eyes, I was alone in a stone room. I pitched forward, heart racing as I recalled the last few hours. I clutched my chest.  _ How long had I been out?  _ I reached for the mental bond, pleased to see my magic had somewhat rejuvenated but defeated that I was still blocked from Rhysand. I called for him anyway. There was no response but I felt comforted knowing that soon there would be. I’d hear his response again. 

The next reminder I received was from my abdomen and shoulders. But mostly my entire body was screaming at my sudden movement. I sucked in, pressing a hand to my stomach like that’d assuage the flame I’d just set there. I slowly breathed in to test my abs and winced at the result. Though the three stabs made a neat line between my hips, I felt the impact in the rest of my body. When I lifted my legs or twisted my spine, even raising my arms, they protested. I hated how loud they were; I wanted them to heal so I could be done with the memory. 

Another fear overtook me and I patted around me, looking for the earrings to find them glimmering on an oddly built nightstand. It might have been wood but it was a very light color, almost milk white. Playing with the earrings in my fingers, I took stock of my surroundings finally. 

The walls were made of pitch black stone. Under the Mountain had grey stone walls that somehow always looked wet and treacherous. These walls were solid black with a warmth leaching from them. My bed was low to the ground and right by the window, which wasn’t like a window at all. It was a hole with yellow curtains hanging, letting in the breeze and sunlight. Besides for my bed and nightstand, the room was empty. A doorway, that had no door, was positioned across from the bed. A black curtain hung in that entryway. 

My body was swathed in bandages. A heavy wool blanket laid over me. They’d given me an odd vest-like dress. Most of the dirt had been wiped away before healing me so I still felt a cloying layer, clinging to me like a parasite. The air was temperate, like the Summer Court was in winter. Or the Spring Court. 

A winged male walked into the room. “I heard you wake,” he began. 

“Where are the others?” I demanded, recalling my adventure hadn’t been a solo act. I still had two... _ what?  _ Unwitting allies? Unlikely. I was bringing Tamlin to Prythian to face whatever justice awaited him there. Jurian, I believed, would rather cut off his own tongue than call me his ally.  _ But he’d saved you all the same _ , my conscious chimed in. I stuffed away the labels for the moment. They were strangers to me. Nothing more, nothing less. 

The soldier grimaced. He shifted his footing, rubbing his temples. “One of them is in his room, waiting for you to wake and Jurian was healed but he’s...proven more difficult.” 

“What does that mean?” I squinted. 

“We’ve sedated him for the time being.” 

Remembering Jurian from the beach, I decided that was probably better for the moment. He wasn’t staying. We all weren’t. “How long have I been out?” 

“A day.” 

“I slept the night through?” I clarified, squinting. 

“No, two nights.” 

I sucked in through clenched teeth.  _ Rhysand.  _ I closed my eyes, willing away all my thoughts. I’d seek him out today. _I’d seek him out.,_ I repeated and continued to chant until it could almost drown out my panic. I already threw open my mental walls to him, just in case. “What do you want? Why are we here?” I breathed out. 

“Prince Drakon would prefer to answer those questions himself. He asked to meet with you once you were able. He said he’d wait if you wished to bathe and-” 

I shook my head, wriggling my toes back to life in preparation of rising. “I don’t have time for that. I'll meet him _now_ _. _ ” 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (02/11): okay so 5 parts total to the chapter, new chapter tomorrow :)))))  
> (02/10): updated! so far there are 3 parts to this chapter. The 4th and final will come tomorrow.  
> (02/09): Guys...:) this chapter will be added to tomorrow again  
> (02/08): This is another chapter that I will update tomorrow with two more parts. Make your guesses now because honestly I’ve been waiting a long time for this chapter
> 
> The Light of the Seven - Ramin Djawadi  
> Sail - AWOLNATION  
> Seven Devils - Florence and the Machine

**Nesta:**

****I stared at the two pieces of the Book. They watched me as well. Little encouraging voices filled my head with promises of violence, like it was singing me to sleep. I told Amren but she was adamant that this was something I’d learn to tolerate and then control. I hoped so. Otherwise I’d be in for more headaches. I’d fought her on this but she made her case. The Book controlled the Cauldron. If I was to ever control the magic inside me, I’d need to know what the Book contained and adopt it for my own purposes. She insisted I write anything I learned down for her; we had yet to attempt with Amren but besides Cassian and Cresseida, no one else could handle the Book. I hadn’t even tried picking it up though my hands practically twitched with the desire. I glared harder.

Amren advised me to do what I believed best when I met with the Book. At the moment, I thought leaving after only a few hours would appear too _cheeky_ so I stood still. I fisted my fingers to keep them from traitorously reaching for the Book. 

Cresseida had winnowed me Under the Mountain and we walked the rest of the way, past Helion’s wards that blocked over twenty entrances to our location. His strategy was that if his wards were broken, our precise location wouldn’t immediately be known which gave us time to escape. Cresseida now stood as a patient sentinel while I stood as a much less patient participant in this experiment Amren thought necessary. She didn’t mention why I hadn’t touched the Book and she didn’t try to make small talk; on both accounts, I could appreciate her more so. She had a major temper when it concerned Cassian but I sympathized with that. 

The pieces of the Book recaptured my attention. They so direly wanted to be reunited. I was under the strict policy of giving it absolutely nothing. Anything that cooed about death and life so flippantly needed to be thrown in a dark hole and forgotten about. Unfortunately, if I followed my own thinking I’d be joining the Book in that hole as well.

They cooed me again from where they sat, separated by an arm’s length, and resting on salvaged furniture from Under the Mountain. The Human Queen’s piece sat on a chair and the other what might have been a nightstand. Both surfaces were covered in dust and worse for wear which matched the Book’s own condition. 

“Lady Nesta?” Cresseida asked. I turned my back on the Book purposefully. It’s eyes felt like cold kisses on my neck. I held my shoulders back and kept my chin lifted. _That thing_ can be thrown into the ocean for all I cared.

The room was cavernous with a ceiling I couldn’t see through the dark. I had lit several torches in the chamber but now they casted ghostly shadows that made me almost prefer the dark. Cresseida stood at the entrance with her seashell sword drawn, glinting in the torchlight and the shadows casted on her face hid her expression. All but her round, blue eyes. Her braided hair was drawn back into a larger braid that trailed to her waist. When she moved, the interwoven seashells and gold disks clinked together like a wind chime. 

Looking at her silver breastplate, shaped like a large seashell, my hand found the wards Lucien had given me around my neck. They were hidden beneath my dress and strung on a necklace. Cassian insisted they never see the light of day, lest anyone identify them. I wore two now, one for hiding me from Hybern and the second for masking my magic. It worked well because Cresseida said I only smelled like something that had burned to charcoals: the product of all that bright raw magic. I frowned at the change in my scent but Cassian only smiled, declaring I smelled like the campfires he used to sit at with Rhysand and Azriel. 

“If you’re finished, we can return,” she offered, eyes looking to the pieces behind me. “You’re not making progress and I have tasks to finish.” 

“Nor do I want to.” _You would not either if you heard the Book as I do,_ I thought. 

She furrowed her brows. “Then what are we doing here?” she asked impatiently. 

“Appeasing Amren,” I retorted. 

She pursed her lips. “I have better tasks to see to than caring after a Book and a witch,” she rested her hands on her hips, sword falling to the side. Her tone was patronizing but humorous, slight wry smile playing on her face. 

I never knew the fae made distinctions between themselves and _witches_. It made me want to meet an actual witch and understand what set them apart. Would I witness the burning of a witch here too? When I was human, a witch hunt was nearly an annual event. I never believed the women had magic or was casting spells but it wasn’t about what I believed. It was about what others feared. 

I guess I was a witch. 

“I do as well,” I agreed, looking back to the Book. I debated uniting the pieces. The completed Book controlled the Cauldron. Divided, perhaps it merely aggravated it. I cocked my head to the side, staring down the ancient tome for the hundredth time. The cover was grey and frayed with age, worn along the bindings. Neither cover had a name but I suppose no name would ever suit the text. The pieces appeared to have been split by being torn apart with the bindings ripped right down the middle. The pages nearest the tear didn’t look in danger of falling out or being misplaced. _It would not allow itself to be further divided_ , I concluded while fighting off the voices. 

One aspect I hadn’t yet considered fairly was the Book’s words did drown out the Cauldron’s presence. Though I felt mesmerized by the Book, I was completely separate from the Cauldron’s hold. Caught between two enigmatic objects, I had to make a decision. Ultimately, I knew without the Book to aid me then the Cauldron would eventually pull my mind loose like threads from a cloth. 

I stepped closer to the Book for the first time since I arrived and began my vigil. The whispers picked up in volume and intensity like it sensed my nearness. They were a loud buzz instead of a soft sigh. As my fingers neared the pieces, it began to scream. I dug into my resolve and eased my hands over the two separate pages. I lifted the separate sections and watched the distance grow scarce. 

My back stiffened while my hands flattened on the covers with a will of their own. I sucked in, prepared to pull back but my hands felt firm. Foreign magic rolled over me, licking my skin and igniting my senses. My own magic lurched to meet the Book. A bright wave radiated outward from me. Instead of colliding with the cave walls, it split apart to wash over the walls and also pass through them, continuing on its outward journey. The torchlight was incomparable to the wave of sparkling gold light. All shadows drove away and for one moment, we were showered in it’s radiance and it was beautiful. I’d never seen something as soft and inviting as that light. 

Cresseida cursed loudly but whatever she felt, I was immune to. My awe was my own. It barely felt like a tickle to me, like Cassian’s soft placed kisses on my shoulder. I watched the Book, waiting for it to adopt the Cauldron’s habit for the perverse but it rested harmlessly while sandwiched between my hands. My head was silent except for the trail of my own thoughts. I focused on my breathing. I didn’t check my magic. I couldn’t even hear the Cauldron’s call. My magic had risen and silenced by this Book. 

After a few moments of miraculous _nothing_ , I dared to breathe out. My body shuddered and eyes stung. Cold sweat dripped from my temple. My cheeks hurt from the tension. I closed my eyes and pressed the Book to my chest. Relief was too poor a word to describe my emotions. 

“Lady Nesta?” Cresseida dared. 

I nodded while my back was to her, not yet willing to depart from the sweetness of the Book’s silence. I bit my lip. My magic was resting inside me and didn’t rear its ugly head. Like the eye of a storm, the waters inside were calm. No fog encroached upon my thoughts. I was left exhausted; my body trembled like a leaf in the breeze. Whatever the Book had done, it limited the effects of being separated from the Cauldron. 

“Did you mean to release that magic?” Cresseida asked. 

“No, that came from the Book,” I corrected. 

“No,” Cresseida frowned. “The Book itself possesses no magic. It reacts to the user. The magic was _yours_ ,” she emphasized. Her eyes darted down the dark corridor. I clutched the Book tighter though I heard nothing. “It might have compromised Helion’s wards. We should take the Book with us.” She held out her hands to me, fingers curling to beckon me forward. I began moving towards her when I noticed something or the lack of something. I stopped where I stood. “We should go...what are you doing?” I held the Book carefully with one hand while the other went to my chest where Lucien’s wards rested. 

The blood left my face as I met Cresseida’s eyes. My mouth parting in a silent plea. She stepped closer, hands outstretched as she tried to understand what plagued me. I prodded the fabric of my dress, attempting to feel for the wooden pendants. My fingers clawed at my dress, seeking but not succeeding. The wards were no longer there and in their place, I felt something powdery brush against my bare skin. 

I’d reduced them to ash.

“We need to go,” I whispered. I didn’t know where we could though. How could I tell her to winnow to Velaris? Anywhere I went, chaos would follow. I didn’t know if the Book was possibly hiding me while it subdued me but I didn’t want to find out. 

_Lucien_ , I thought. We needed to get to Lucien. We needed him to make the wards again before Hybern found what he’d been seeking. 

She nodded and opened her mouth. She didn’t get to speak as our ears picked up what we both dreaded. Heartbeats. Footsteps. Voices. Our faces were drained of color when our eyes met each other. No one besides Helion, Cassian, Cresseida and myself knew the location of the Book. Hybern had found me. 

“Winnow us to the Day Court,” I whispered, snatching her forearm to grab her attention. My nails dug painfully into her skin. 

She shook her head. “We can’t winnow from here. We need to make it beyond Under the Mountain,” she said. _What?_ I hissed. That makes no sense. How could one cave be more restrictive than the next? Her blue eyes traced my features, absorbing my fear and concern. “It’s why we chose this place. No one could simply winnow in and steal the Book. We’re at the heart of Under the Mountain.”

Her words felt like the wooden bars to my cage. I swallowed, tightening every muscle or impulse that wanted me to shake and quiver. I knew this day was more an inevitability than a possibility. Cassian had been optimistic but I knew. I felt it inside me. I had prepared for this and that alone lent my voice it’s cool control. “What do we do?” 

Her eyes hardened while they took me in, flicking to every feature I controlled. The fear bled from her eyes, leaving something angrier in their place. Her nostrils flared and she nodded definitively. Her fingers tightened on the pommel of her sword. “I’m going to fight. _You’re_ going to run and hide.” 

I shook my head rapidly. My heart made my ears deaf to her, like she spoke through glass or water. “What? I don’t know the caves-” 

“Listen to me,” it was her turn to grab me. Our faces were inches apart as if she couldn’t risk her words going anywhere else but to me. She leaned in and in a fierce whisper, “If you leave here and take the first left, follow it down. You’re fae. You’ll know where to go. It’s now in your blood too, witch as you might be,” when I nodded, she continued, “Once you’re in the heart, there will be a pit. Hide in that pit. They won’t find you there.” 

I bobbed my head as much as it took for me to commit her words to memory. “What about you?” 

“If your magic made it beyond the walls of this cave, it should reach someone else soon enough. They’ll send help. I can hold them off…” she said her last words like she was convincing herself just as much. Snapping out of her thoughts, she stared me down. “Go now. Run and don’t stop until you reach the pit.” She threw me back, releasing my arm. I found my footing but didn’t budge. “ _Go_ ,” she hissed, eyes wide. Her hands ushered me towards the exit. “Hybern will _not_ get you but you have to go now.” 

The first steps I took were hesitant. I was leaving the fight, fleeing it and though I had no training to fight, my feet didn’t want to flee. As I pounded down the corridor, I had to force each step from turning back. My resolve only hardened when the sounds of dying males hit my ears, echos following my descent into the caves.

**Cassian:**

Our movement to the Relaran Pass put us in a prime location for retaking Adriata. If the Summer, Autumn and Spring Court could work their way down the Andros then we could rejoin at the palace. The trouble was our allies to the south had much more fighting to handle than we did this far north. They had the constant threat of being surrounded from the north and south while we were boarded by the Winter Court. Kallias had bristled when Rhysand implied the Winter Court could be invaded by the sea. According to Kallias, if the army survived the western tundra then they deserved to hand over their court. No amount of prodding had made the High Lord reveal his tactics and the more Rhysand questioned, the more irate Kallias became. Rhys let the topic slide for the moment but we both became infinitely more curious about what made Kallias so confident. 

Hybern had destroyed Adriata by a sea-based invasion. The capital of the Summer Court. He’d succeeded mostly because he had surprised the recovering city and had used, what we suspected, to be half his forces. But if no one else would admit it, I would take it upon myself to acknowledge that Hybern had succeeded more so than we had. Until we got Feyre back would I admit that we’d finally begun to turn the tides. 

Rhys had said she escaped. He had not shared the contents of Elain’s letter but he concluded Feyre was, at the moment, safe. All I had to say was _if she’s so safe then where is she?_ If any of us had been with her in Adriata, she wouldn’t have been taken. We were stronger together. If Feyre was still in the wind then she wasn’t safe yet. For a thousand reasons I kept this to myself. Nesta was not so discreet. She refused to look at Rhys. After many pointed comments, Rhys had been pressed to admit he was forced to trust Elain’s visions, that following her guidance would bring Feyre back to him. 

Nesta accepted that response for the moment with a curt nod. 

Though as I watched Rhys lean over the map of the Summer Court, I felt his words had cut off before the important part: _for the moment._ Until Rhys knew more would he continue to heed Elain’s counsel. The difference between Rhys and I was clearer than ever. Rhys trusted others even when it pushed his instincts. I may trust Elain but my instincts guided me as they’d never led me astray. Nesta might have complete control over her every impulse but not a soul on the planet could tell me she didn’t behave similarly. 

“The coast would leave all the Illyrian’s open,” Rhysand said, pointing at the map. 

“We need the water to have any hope at using our magic,” Kallias shook his head. He kept frowning. His lips would fall off if he kept it up. “This close to the Winter Court and we can maybe call on a blizzard. Would that give you coverage?” Helion sat off to the side, tipping his chin up to see where Rhysand pointed before taking another sip from his glass. The male never got drunk. I didn’t understand how he could drink from dawn till dusk and remain conscious _and_ clever. 

“The goal is to attack Hybern’s forces, not our own,” Viviane mumbled to her mate, smile playing on her purple lips. Mor kept her head lowered to hide her own amused grin. _Mates_ , I rolled my eyes. Helion watched the couple with a bland smile on his face. 

“Illyrians are trained in the mountains,” I chimed in, earning me unamused glances from all the Winter Court officials present. “Our legions are prepared for a blizzard,” I retorted, emphasizing that a mere snowstorm wouldn’t break our front. The glance Kallias spared me made me think twice about challenging the High Lord so directly but I shrugged, standing firm. 

“Are you so sure, General?” Kallias raised his eyebrows, still frowning. 

“Positive,” Azriel stepped in, cool voice floating around the room eerily. He didn’t meet Kallias’s challenging gaze but kept his eyes on the map. Barely concerning himself with the inhabitants of the room like we all were fixtures. Az had an annoyingly good mask if only because it was so silently vexing. “The challenge will be to keep the Dawn Court healers near but not in danger of the blizzard.”

Helion shrugged. “Wards,” was all he said. 

I envied the usefulness of the Day Court powers. They were master thieves. It was the only reason they’d been able to collect as much information about the Night Court as they had. Helion met my gaze and winked. _Ah, yes_ , _and who could forget the polygamy._ The Night Court had many rules and traditions that it broke and even more it upheld. Monogamy still was held. Mostly because the creatures of the Night Court, Illyrians included, were possessive. We had tightly knit families and strictly followed lineages. One only could boast about a lineage if they could trace their lineage. A bastard like myself had no such luck. 

I opened my mouth to taunt the High Lord, not knowing what got into me, but found myself unable to speak. My left hand slapped onto the table to prevent me from keeling over. The air in the room ceased to exist. I couldn’t breathe. My hand grasped my chest as if to aid my lungs. Everyone around me moved into action but my vision had narrowed to my other hand, still gripping the table. If I looked anywhere else, I’d pass out. I swallowed though I couldn’t complete the action. Saliva pooled in my throat. 

Something seized my insides and yanked like it wanted to pull my intestines through my back. The pressure pushing outwards on my ribcage never eased but I sucked in anyway. Sweet air graced me and I found I could just barely pull the air into me, like my lungs refused to fully expand.

“Cassian,” Rhys called, voice full of worry. He stood next to me now with one hand steadying my shoulder. 

But when I looked up, it was Helion’s shocked expression that held my attention. And behind him, the tent flaps pushed open carrying the mist in too. Elain, followed by Lucien, ran in and out of breath. Her face was flushed, eyes wild. Mor jolted from her seat, everyone now stood to face the pair with interest or surprise. Those that knew Elain looked afraid. My hand only got tighter on my chest. My heart was going to collapse. The two of them confirming my worst fears and suspicions and Helion confirming my deepest desires. 

“What the—” Kallias began. 

“It’s Nesta,” Elain cried out. “She...she changed her mind. You need to go to her _now_ ,” she demanded. Just as she finished speaking, a golden wave of pure light swept through the room causing everyone present to hiss at the small burn. I barely felt it but I smelled it. _The smoke._

I lunged for Rhys with Az and Mor following. He winnowed us without another word, straight to the entrance to Under the Mountain. 

**Nesta:**

I flew. My feet no longer slapped the rock. I propelled forward, feet bounding off the floor. The walls were a blur. I could only see because I gave off light. Small, golden sparks of light that trailed me. I wanted them to vanish but needed their light. The caves were pitch black and I had no torch. With every huffed breath, a flurry of light puffed into the air. Everything was grey in my peripherals. I took in no details. It was all about opening my lungs and my next step. I’d never run a day in my life. It hurt even in my powerful fae shell. 

Cresseida was right. I knew the way. Somewhere deep inside where a part of me was still fae, I knew. I studied the lore behind Under the Mountain but at a distance. I didn’t think it applied to me. I _wasn’t_ fae. But as I took turn after turn without logic or reasoning and still knew it was the right decision, I was less sure of myself. 

My fingers clutched the Book tightly to my chest. I refused to let it slip. If I stayed with Cresseida, Hybern could get me. Get me and the Book. He’d win the war in a night if I didn’t find a way to kill myself before he could use me. Even if I managed, there was no guarantee he couldn’t work with what I left behind. There was no choice. I had no choice. My heart echoed this but I tripped over leaving Cresseida behind. I was no warrior. I had no desire to kill but could we not flee together? 

My heart strained. I reached for Cassian. He’d have stayed and fought. My left hand hiked my dress skirts up even higher until my knees cooled with the damp air. It smelled stale. The scent of iron followed my retreating back. I preferred the staleness. The beautiful still air of a library. Or the puff of warm air from an ancient book, finally opened. The woods before dawn. I wanted that peace more than anything. 

I could only blame myself. Everyone told me my life would be in danger once Elain and I were revealed. I thought it would be on my terms. Once again, the plans I laid for my life had a habit of being torn asunder. I called for Cassian again.

I took another sharp turn, converging with another hall. I recalled Amren’s training. _Breathe._ Though she’d never told me to breathe while I hurtled down hallways in fear for my life. It was infinitely harder. I proceeded to the next step. _Greet your magic_. I turned my eyes inward. The Cauldron’s magic slept peacefully. I approached it without it ever looking up at me. The past few weeks, it had been inextricable from me. Like a rot in a tree, it weakened me by invading every crevice I thought to keep for myself. With the Book in hand, it froze inside me. My body was far from my own but the Cauldron could no longer swarm me as it once had. Moments before, I was ready to cry with relief at the thought. Now I needed my magic. But I refused to relinquish the Book. 

The halls narrowed until they were maybe a pace in width. I had the suspicion I was going deeper. Lower. The air was always chill and stale but it stung my lungs now. I didn’t dare slow my sprint. I’d rather tumble down these halls than face whatever followed. I could not see the inside of those wooden cages another day. If Hybern got me, I doubt I’d be given something as rudimentary as a wooden pen. 

The caves confused me. I took the same turn multiple times but instead of running in a circle, I descended lower. My fears that I was going the wrong way resurfaced. If I wasn’t fae, I’d never hear the Mountain’s guidance. I was leaving a lot on faith. Blind faith made me uneasy. My burning legs and heaving chest told me I didn’t care. 

The floors steepened. I was reaching _something_ finally. My shoulders were a hair’s breadth from the cave walls now. I surged forward, Book clutched to my chest and dress hiked up past my knees. I ignored the screaming in my calves. I’d never discount Feyre’s training again. I wished she was here with me. I could have told her so myself. I could have said many things.

One step before the wind was knocked from me. A force collided with my lower stomach. I choked. My head swung down. The world tilted. My feet left the floor and I pitched over. My fingers lost track of the Book’s cover. I reached but I was spinning. It was lost to the blur of the world. I couldn’t open my mouth to breathe. My back slammed onto the rock floor. The back of my head bounced and I saw white again. Ringing in my ears blotted out the noise of my choked breath. The incline pitched me forward. I barely managed to pull in my arms and knees. I tumbled down the hallway. Every collision was utter pain, bruising my knees, back and arms. My head was blank with a deep ache that blotted out all other sensation. 

When I stopped rolling, I was curled on my side. My limbs fell to the floor. The Cauldron, no longer suppressed, came from its hiding place inside me. It casted it’s magic back over me. The light I exhaled in unsteady puffs gave me glimpses of a solid, black stone floor expanding in all directions. Except for where it met a wall, multiple narrow openings leading in all directions. My heart’s racing almost stopped me from hearing the dreadful noise of approaching footsteps. I inched my right arm up and under me. I scrambled to locate the Book. My body lagged behind me. My legs gingerly curled underneath me. I only found more rock. My adrenaline wrung me out. I’d dropped the Book when I fell. 

The footsteps grew closer. Standing in the doorway I’d fallen out of, a silhouette. With every breath I released, they grew closer. Dark pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. The flare of a blue doublet, stuffed under brown leather armor with steel plate. Greasy, long black hair and depthless eyes met mine. A sharp jawline like a sickly child and thin, curling lips that revealed pointed teeth. Raised in his hand was the Book. He tapped it against his forehead in a teasing gesture. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

My fear intensified. _Dagdan_. 

“Cresseida thought hiding you in Amarantha’s old court would work,” he said, not sparing a glance at the pitch black enveloping him. It didn’t touch me yet. Not while I was breathing out raw magic. My magic swarmed in me. It was angry I’d silenced it but even more angry at the approaching male.It’s dull hum in my ears threatened to block out his words. His voice peaked and dropped as he spoke, emphasis on all the wrong words. His obvious ease was belied by the twitch in his fingers, the jolt of his step. He stared down at me through his impossibly long nose and sneered, “Your sister thought hiding you would work indefinitely too.”

Mentioning Feyre doused me in the cold water I needed. We didn’t know where she went but I knew where she had been. All those nights watching Dagdan return empty handed from Feyre’s cell, covered in her blood and with nothing to report. How unbreakable my sister was made tangible in Dagdan’s continued failure. I’d seen Dagdan, measured him and found him lacking. My neck tightened. I met his dark gaze and matched it. “I’m sure your sister had just as many poor ideas.” 

His eyes widened. He breathed in hard through his nose. I lifted my chin even though I sat before him. His hand darted out and hauled me up by the front of my dress. My dress ripped along my back, buttons scattering over the floor. My head snapped back from the force. Once again, the world was spinning. My magic popped inside me, crackling like embers ready to ignite. His fingers caught enough fabric to keep me eye-level with him. I balanced on my toes. My heartbeat was erratic while he looked me over. 

I’d been face to face with death but Dagdan was a predator. He’d consume me whole if that was what it took. I recoiled from his scent. _Rot._ He held me firmer, pulling at the skin under my dress. When he spoke, his voice was low like a lovers. “Cresseida sent you to your death. You’re a _torch_ ,” his eyes followed the glow in my shallow breaths. “There is no hiding from your fate.” 

I kept my lips pressed together. He watched me with a winning gleam in those dark eyes. While he distracted himself studying me, I breathed deeply. I let the cool, stale air fill my lungs until they were near bursting. “We’re leaving now,” he purred. When he looked to leave, I greeted my magic. 

It engulfed me. The room illuminated. My hand rose white hot in my vision. I swung at him. My palm laid flat against his bare neck. I gripped tight and released my magic as it came, with no direction except for _out_. The only sound he made was a shocked gasp before the pain seized him. He dropped his hold on me but I held fast to his neck, unflinching when his flesh turned liquid beneath me. The whites of his eyes turned red the longer I held and that was when I finally released him. When my magic no longer escaped me, it receded to my skin leaving a faint glow in its wake. Dagdan fell to the floor with no heartbeat to speak of. 

I stood silent as the light dimmed. I took in his body. His hand was still curled like it held my dress, extended outward. His thin lips shaped in a small ‘o’. His neck was a mess of burning flesh that crack open, releasing steam and sizzles of heat. The hand I’d struck him with was bloodless. It only glimmered. 

I crouched down and pulled the book from his grip. The magic at my command receded to its resting place deep inside me, wrapping itself up in the words of the Book. The thrum of power died in my ears till all that remained was my heavy breathing and my heartbeat, alone in the cavernous room. The space grew darker by the moment so I forced myself to turn, leaving Dagdan’s corpse behind. If I was lucky any who followed would see his corpse and know to turn back. 

Before me was an expansive pit. With a yawning dark mouth, I could hardly glimpse the bottom. I swept the questions from my mind and stepped into the abyss on faith. 

**Mor:**

The tunnel entrance beckoned us into its depths. I’d never spent time Under the Mountain and I never got the chance to study it. After Amarantha, I never wanted to. Now, I cursed my tactically negligent decision. Only Rhys would be able to maneuver these tunnels with confidence, I’d have to rely on my instincts to guide me forward. 

Rhys and I split apart. I went with Azriel and he went with Cassian, more like chased after the Illyrian. Cassian was barely touching down before he darted through one of the entrances. Cassian and Azriel were deaf to the call of Under the Mountain. They needed Rhys or myself to guide them and so we ran forward into the fray. Winnowing into the heart of Under the Mountain was not allowed. The tunnels were too narrow for the Illyrians to fly. We would have to approach this the old fashioned way. 

We each took a different route. There were too many soldiers inside. We needed to block some of their escape routes. Otherwise it would be a chase through these tunnels. From the entrance we could hear the dull roar. No one else should have been in the tunnels except for Cresseida and Nesta; I blanched to think which of the two caused the screaming. I didn’t think of any other possibilities. That we could still be too late. 

Azriel and I sprinted and took the other fork in the tunnels, diverging from Rhys and Cassian. The tunnels fell to black. My Night Court blood giving me a clear view of the grey stone walls. The soldiers would be scouring these tunnels for either of them. Hybern wouldn’t leave this opportunity to chance. 

I used my fear to fuel my next step, pushing me faster and faster. Cassian would worry for Nesta. As would Rhys and Az. I worried for both of them. I had two loved ones in these tunnels; I didn’t know what right I had to feel the way I did but if anything happened to Cresseida, I’d be reduced by it. Up until recently, I’d only ever received her scorn and judgement but it was because I deserved it. I’d only ever shown her my duplicitous side. The mask that kept the Night Court safe. When she’d seen me weak and without my shields, she’d also let me see the part of her that was soft as well. As if we both had thrown away our hard exteriors when they became too heavy and we were sick of pretending.

I wanted to see that Cresseida again and I wanted to deserve the smile she gave me. The compassion she showed me, even if it was born out of pity. The world wouldn’t be the same without her duality inhabiting it. The side of the warrior, blunt and honest, and the equally beautiful princess, curious and kind. We needed more people like Cresseida. I needed Cresseida. 

We came upon a group of Hybern’s soldiers. I didn’t give Azriel a chance. I thrusted my hand out, stopping him from charging forward. I undid the binds of my magic and let it fly through the air. The soldier’s didn’t see us coming. We hadn’t even turned the corner and with my sound barrier, they never would have until it was too late. My magic descended on the unwitting victims in a wave I didn’t bother to check. It took no time making them scream their shame to the Mother; all of them drew their weapons on their own throat with cries dying on their lips. By the time we rounded the corner, there was a field of bodies to maneuver through. Our feet splashed in their blood but we didn’t stop. Cresseida and Nesta were not among them. 

As always when I used my magic, my mind became devoid of all distraction. One single goal in mind. It didn’t matter who I faced. They’d all had something to be ashamed of. My magic feasted on that guilt like crows on a corpse. It was given a shroud of respect I didn’t deserve. Everyone thought it brought the truth to people’s lips, like it could sniff out the good inside people. That wasn’t it at all. They forgot I was Rhysand’s cousin and cut from the same cloth of night. Rhysand could find their fears; my magic found their guilt and weaponized it. 

I didn’t stop the waves of my magic the deeper we invaded the Mountain. Azriel stayed a pace behind me, his shadows clinging to him to keep from touching my magic. With him behind me, I used all my magic without reservation. My back was covered and between us, my magic would get us further. Azriel had plenty but his expertise was to his shadows and the element of surprise. Rhys and Cass were likely plowing down the tunnels with the brutal tactics the two so enjoyed. Azriel complimented my more efficient approach. 

I sweated but only my boots were covered in blood. There should be a disgust in me. We left bodies behind us that hadn’t had a chance. Stepping over them and their cooling bodies only pleased me. The more I took care of here, the less that could possibly reach Cresseida and Nesta. 

So I kept throwing my magic out.

“Mor,” Azriel called. 

“I’m not done yet,” I ground out, still sprinting. My ability had barely waned. There was a reason I stood as Rhysand’s Third and it was because I could level legions with my power. I’d be exhausted at the end. Worse, drained and in need of a healer if I pushed myself but it would be worth it if we made it in time. 

We came across three more legions of soldiers in the tunnels. My ears told me there were leagues more, beyond where I could see them. They were rats. They scoured these tunnels for bits and pieces, gnawing at whatever they found. I left none of them alive and from then on, we found no more. The scent of iron burned my nostrils; we wouldn’t be able to track by scent. Only from our ears and if any of these lesions had a magic-wielding fae, they could easily hide behind a sound barrier as well.

But we didn’t come upon any more legions. Instead, we came across more bodies. At first, only a few scattered on the floor. They looked as if they’d fallen where they stood. Swords dropped haphazardly. It wasn’t done by Rhysand or Cassian. Those two would leave a bloodbath. Neither of them would lose the opportunity to eviscerate Hybern’s soldiers; this was too personal and they stood no chance against their instincts together. 

We stopped to inspect. One male’s head bent to the right, blood dribbling from his mouth. It’d already cooled so it coagulated in a large pool around him. On closer inspection, I saw the dark shade of the male’s skin was purple from the bruising beneath the surface. His eyes were blood red, no whites left, as they stared vacantly ahead. Just beneath the stench of uncleaned bodies and iron was the fainter breath of lemon. “This is Cresseida’s magic,” I said, lifting back up. 

“We’re close,” Azriel stiffened, peering down the hall. 

“Not necessarily,” we restarted our run. “Cresseida has a wide reach.” 

I was right. The further we ran, the more bodies that appeared. All of them were drowned where they laid in their own body’s fluids. The body count kept rising. Entire legions. Bodies stacked on each other, males resting against one another like they had laid down to take a nap. Some with hands at their throats. Others looked like they might have been screaming. The floor no longer existed. We had to step on the bodies. Their bones broke underneath Azriel’s weight. They piled up in the narrowing halls. Now packed like fish for the market, I stepped on whatever flat part of their body I could. They squished beneath me. I forced myself not to look down. I held no pity for them but the smell alone threatened me with vomiting. If I looked at their purpled skin, I’d lose my stomach for sure. 

It got to the point the hallway was blocked by the bodies. Azriel and I had to climb over them. Sitting on the other side, panting against a wall was Cresseida. I scanned the room. Nesta wasn’t here. Her head was tilted against the stone. Her chest rose and fell in short bursts. A few soldiers scattered about her were the only to prove she’d ever drawn her sword. It rested across her thighs, still gleaming. Her eyes were clenched in pain but I couldn’t rely on my nose to tell me what the issue was. 

Azriel helped me to right myself after we pushed through. His wings were smeared with blood from those he crawled over. Something wet was on my chin. I barely felt it or cared that my hair wasn’t tied back and was likely covered in just as much blood. 

“Cresseida,” I called. She looked so tired. Her white hair was dyed pink once more. The golden disks woven in it were flecked with blood. A smear across her high cheekbones. She still smelled like lemon, the sea and an unknown scent that must have been reckless abandon. 

Her head lolled to see us. She panted. A smile flickered over her lips. “I knew the magic would call you here,” she nodded lazily. Her voice was faint and sing-songy. She licked her lips. Fine beads of sweat ran down from temple to chin. “Nesta. She ran. She’s at the heart.” Azriel straightened, mind already on the next task. I didn’t move yet. Nesta was my first duty but I couldn’t leave Cresseida as she was. My chest heaved. I couldn’t leave her. But I’d never forgive myself if Nesta fell once more into Hybern’s hands. 

I knelt next to Cresseida, watching her throat swallow with effort. I scanned her but I couldn’t tell if she had a wound. The air smelled too strongly of iron and lemon. “Are you hurt?” I asked, my hands reaching out but I didn’t dare touch her. Azriel shifted behind me. We needed to keep moving. Rhysand and Cassian could be anywhere in the tunnels. Nesta was in danger.

She shook her head. “I used my magic,” she supplied. Her blue eyes momentarily opened before fluttering closed again. It explained the panting. Draining magic made a fae feverish. Young fae were prone to exhausting themselves. They didn’t know their limits yet, didn’t recognize the signs. She’d heal but she was vulnerable until then. If any of the other soldiers found her now, she’d be easy to kill off. 

I pulled my water sack from my hip and pressed it to her lips. “Drink this,” I forced it closer to her. She gulped it down, eyes meeting mine with gratitude burning in them. 

When I pulled it back, she gasped for air. “Go,” she whispered hoarsely, bringing her arm across her lips. She sighed and leaned her head back against the stone wall. “Nesta. She’s at the heart.”

Cresseida’s delirium helped me make up my mind. I took her sword and sheathed it into the scabbard, dirty as it was. I picked up her arms and pivoted so they laid across my shoulder. I rose to my feet so Cresseida was carefully pulled to hers. She briefly groaned but head fell against my armor with a _thud._ I quickly scooped up her thighs and brought her weight onto my back. “We’re taking her with us,” I met Azriel’s worried glance. He knew Cresseida was important to me but now realized fully the extent of her importance. I prayed I made the right decision, that Nesta would be safe despite the delay. 

After a moment of deliberation, he nodded. “We’ll have to be quick. Do you want me to carry her?” 

I flashed a grateful smile. “No. Can you clear our path though?” Cresseida's shallow breathing brushed against my neck. Her forehead felt clammy to the touch. She barely held to me. 

He returned the gesture and turned to our blocked exit; he held out his scarred hands and they steadily began to glow brilliantly blue just before he threw it against the wall of corpses.

**Nesta:**

I shivered. It’d started a little while ago and now it was uncontrollable. My body trembled no matter how tightly I wrapped my arms around my waist. It didn’t take much to guess the cause. With the Book in hand, my magic left me cold like I had been before I’d ever accepted it into my body. The open back of my dress didn’t help my case. A phantom breeze down in these pits ghosted over the skin there giving me the distinct feeling I was not alone here. I trudged forward anyway, flinging mud with my boots wherever I stepped. I was determined to get as far into the pits as I possibly could. Away from whoever else might have looked for me and away from Dagdan’s cooling body. 

I tried to find guilt inside me. The humanity I clung to but it wasn’t there. Not for Dagdan. I had not a single drop of regret for the fae male; I wished instead to meet with all the others who thought they could torture and main with impunity. I’d read so many philosophy books that spoke about killing. Violence begets violence. That the more you can justify your actions, the worse you are. I didn’t try then. I was a killer. Before, I was just a female with a killer inside me. The Cauldron’s actions and desires could be separated from my own but no more. 

It should have terrified me. A month ago and I would have been but I was too tired for that. I hung from my bones, barely summoning the energy to move. I needed to rest. 

I fisted my hands in my dress and hiked my skirts higher. My boots sank further in the mud. It wasn’t all mud. Bones stuck out in some places. There was a thick oil layer coating the grey ground and in some places, solid fat. In some places the mud thinned out so that I could reach the earth beneath. Beneath the soles of my shoes, the hard ground was uneven with hard objects the size of pebbles. I ignored the decaying scent as best I could. I was happy with my decisions to eat little. I was too prone these past few days to nausea. It left me hungry and contributed to my exhaustion but I’d eat when the smell of rotting corpses disappeared. 

When I couldn’t walk any further, I found myself the darkest section of the pits and leaned against the rock. I swayed. I couldn’t go on so exhausted. I lowered myself down, using the stone as a support, and when I was ready, I released the Book from my grasp.

**Cassian:**

Rhys warned me against attempting to fly in the tunnels but with my wings flared slightly, I could pick up significant speed while running. With my dual blades at the ready, I didn’t have to stop and attack. My momentum was enough to drive my swords through their bodies. Rhys was always a few paces ahead of me. When we approached groups, he misted them without a second thought. The two of us were covered in a fine spray of warm blood. When we found lone soldiers, he left them to fall on my swords. 

Describing where we had hidden the Book was a lost cause but that didn’t matter. Rhys didn’t believe they’d be found where the Book had been hidden. Rhys was convinced that if we were to find Cresseida and Nesta, they were going to be found at the heart of the Mountain. They wouldn’t have run towards Hybern’s troops. The heart of the Mountain would prevent them from being found too quickly; Hybern’s soldiers couldn’t winnow out with Nesta from there. It gave them the most time. They had to be there. 

So we turned away from the caverns leading to the Book and dove further into the mountain. When the floor was steep enough, I flared my wings and dove forward. My feet skidded beneath me. Rhys was even worse. He let his wings hit the stone walls, if only to make him faster. I at first shuddered, remembering the pain of my joint snapping, but I gave into my instincts anyway. My wings scraped and banged on the walls but I resisted snapping them towards me. We needed to move fast. 

I should never have let Nesta go alone. It was stupid. With only Lucien’s wards to keep her hidden, I should have seen the problem. I should have kept her in Velaris. It wasn’t my decision to make and yet I should have at least tried to dissuade her. But I was selfish. I wanted Nesta where I could see her, where I knew she would be safe.  _ She could have been safe in Velaris. I should have tried harder.  _ I’d enjoyed the fact she was with me when I fell asleep and woke. She was a constant and I destroyed that. 

If I had been smarter, I would have demanded to hold onto the Book. Used the same presumptive ego that all the other High Lords so eagerly displayed and declared the Book for my own. That would have led to more arguing but Nesta would have stayed close. Why had we ever agreed to alliances? 

My hands were tight on my swords. If I relaxed my grip, I’d drop the blades and start to shake. I wanted so badly to release as much magic as I could, kill anything and everything in sight. They were all Hybern’s soldiers. They deserved it. If they’d touched a hair on her head…

And I  _ knew  _ that there was a leader amongst the rabble. There was a Captain here but judging by sheer numbers, a General. A General prowling these caves looking for Nesta. Generals in Hybern’s army were High Fae, murderous and with all the magic and power to present a very real threat. Rhys had killed one in the Spring Court. That left four Generals. I blanched as I thought of which one might have been sent to do Hybern’s bidding. 

We came to a point in our descent when the walls were so tight we had to inch sideways down the hall. My armor scraping on contact, echoing in the quiet tunnels. Rhys didn’t have the same issue. He slipped between the halls without an issue, hiding his wings and making confident strides forward. No curses from him. He restrained himself remarkably well even as I scented his panic and cold sweat.  _ He’d done this thousands of times before _ , I told myself. The familiar ground was probably the only reason Rhys was calm. He knew this landscape better than the enemy and it was effortless to reassume his role here. 

I gathered his discipline and attempted to apply it to myself but it didn’t work that way. My panic wasn’t mine to control. The cold sweat on my neck didn’t belong to me but it was mine all the same, making my muscles shake and exhaustion threaten me anyway. My jaw was so tight I could have cracked my teeth. All my instincts were clamouring together inside me. I’d always had a poor reaction to Nesta being in danger and it all came to a forefront today. My gut gripped so tight by fear. My body flooded by terror not my own. 

It was no wonder I couldn’t control my instincts as well as Rhys did. They weren’t mine. 

Rhys froze ahead of me. I skidded to a halt, slamming into his back. “Rhys, what the—” he brought his arm back, cutting into my throat and forcing my silence. His head turned into the darkness. As creatures of the Night Court, the tunnels were easier to maneuver for an Illyrian but we still needed some ounce of light to go by. Rhysand didn’t have the same hangup. 

Then I smelled it. Fresh blood above all the staleness. The smoke. I was ahead of Rhys before he could stop me. The floor took a sudden dive and I leapt it, coming out to a grand cavern with a ceiling that vanished into oblivion above our heads. It was so quiet I hadn’t realized we were coming to the heart. I had been searching for screaming, never thinking we might have been too late. There was nothing save grey stone wherever I looked. I summoned my magic and the dim red glow of my siphons burned with higher intensity. 

“Cass, save it,” Rhys snapped, following shortly after me. I fisted my hands to keep from striking him. My temper was choking me. Rhys’s was also dangerously close to the surface as well. We needed to find them soon or we’d start tearing ourselves apart. He marched undaunted into the pitch black, tearing me by my arm with him. His hand on my bicep was tight enough to be painful; I took that to be purposeful. I thought he was searching the cavern but his night vision had already landed on something beyond my sight. The closer we got, the more the smell of blood filled my nose with equal amounts of smoke. 

It couldn’t have been Nesta but my mind refused to let go of the fear. Even if it wasn’t Nesta, we still would have to find her and hope we did before anyone else. 

The body was not Nesta’s. Not only was it too tall, it was too lanky. It was male and fae with dark, long hair. Turned away so I could only see it’s back. My eyes fell on the blue doublet, just barely making out the color and I sighed. “How’d this one get separated?” I kept my voice hushed. If we were going to be ambushed, how loud I spoke wouldn’t have been a problem; however, I didn’t want to invite anything near to come to the slaughter too. 

Rhys walked around the body. “I smell blood...but there isn’t any pools,” he glanced around, eyes bright violet as they scanned the area. I could just use my siphons to get a decent visual. He crouched in front of the male, face going still. His hand clasped the corpse’s jaw and turned it so the hair fell away from the face and neck. I didn’t need Rhys’s vision to understand the wrongness at the neck. A black web of flesh that started where the neck and shoulder joined before branching out along skin like an infection. Then I glanced to the exposed face. 

“That’s Dagdan,” I swallowed. Rhys only nodded numbly. His throat was tight, muscles twitching. “Where the fuck’s Brannagh?” I spun quickly, prepared to meet the fae. They hadn’t been the ones to snap my wing but they’d come up with the plot. I hoped to repay the favor. 

“Cass,” Rhys sighed. 

“What?” I asked, daring a glance back towards him. 

“The wound is Nesta’s.” 

I spun again. “What?” My eyes redoubled on the neck. I crouched down, sniffing at the rotting corpse. I ignored all my repulsion and laid my hand flat on the neck. It was rough. The skin wasn’t diseased, it was charred. It had been burned to a crisp and my heavy hand caved in the fragile section. It collapsed into ash. White bone from his neck stuck out underneath. When I touched the vertebrae, they crumbled. “She’s here then,” I sighed out. My chest could finally fill with air ever since the morning when it first seized. 

“Cass,” Rhys shook his head. “Brannagh’s missing.”

“No, she’s here,” I insisted. His wide, purple eyes illuminated my face and undoubtedly told him how badly I wanted to believe the words I spoke. But I did believe them. It wasn’t faith; I knew them to be true deep within me. Nesta “He came after her alone. She killed him. She ran. She’s  _ here _ , Rhys, I know it.” 

Rhys studied me. “Where would she have gone? Nesta wouldn’t have run to the heart of the Mountain by herself,” he kept his voice level, without any emotion. I appreciated his calmness and forethought as he poked at the carefully constructed walls I’d built around my heart. 

I pushed my brain to think rationally. All signs pointed to Nesta being abducted. One twin was missing. Cresseida and Nesta were nowhere to be found. If they’d been outnumbered...it would explain why there was a lack of struggle. But it didn’t fit. I sucked in. “If Cresseida were here, Dagdan would have been a bloody mess. He’s not. There isn’t a single drop of blood here,” Rhys glanced around, searching for evidence. “Cresseida told her to go ahead. Nesta was here.” 

He reached to the ground and picked something up, pinching it between his fingers. “What’s that?” I asked but Rhys turned and chucked it into the pit.

He didn’t answer. My heart rate accelerated. I was about to demand more but he raised his hand to stop me. He looked straight ahead, shoulders dropping at his side. “She’s here,” he nodded. 

I dropped my line of questioning in favor of nodding rapidly. “She is, Rhys, I know—”

“Cresseida would have told her to hide,” Rhys said, voice absent of all emotion. “The only place you can hide Nesta without scenting her is next to something  _ worse  _ smelling.” I was about to ask what he meant when I glanced to the Middengard wyrm’s previous pit and stopped. “Cresseida was there when Feyre fought the wyrm. She knows how easy it is to get lost in there.”

Rhys might have felt defeated by the sheer enormity of the task ahead but I remained undaunted. Nesta killed Dagdan. She was safe. She wasn’t taken. I’d find her and not let the damnable female go after. Wordlessly, I sprinted towards the cliff’s edge and snapped my wings open. Rhys was a pace behind me. 

If I shouted for her, we’d draw more legions closer to us. I wouldn’t have cared but that meant Nesta would be caught in the fray. Instead, I uncapped my magic. My siphons glowed crimson, pulsing with energy. I eased my body into the rhythms demanded by flying. I focused on setting my instincts back into order. She was safe. 

_ Safe. Safe. Safe.  _

She could come out of her hiding place as she undoubtedly found one to hole away in. As I flew, I admired Nesta’s cunning. It felt unnatural to begin to celebrate so early but it was necessary. I needed to push back on my instincts, back on that foreign terror. She’d come to me when she was safe. 

_ She was here. She was safe. She could come out. _

I banked quickly, eyes focused on the dark floor below. Without having a real reason besides the feeling of rightness, I landed in the empty pit. High towering stone and ankle-high mud that smelled rancid. I stood still and breathed out. My siphons casted a red haze on the stone around me. I lifted my nose and scented the air for smoke but if I looked hard enough, I’d always find Nesta’s scent. It was on me afterall. 

_ She was here. She was safe. She could come out. _

I curled in my wings, not liking having them exposed. My heartbeat had almost returned to normal. I breathed easier. 

I felt her eyes on my back first. The pricking of my hairs. I slowly turned, wholly unprepared for the sight that awaited me. Nesta was further away than I should have been able to see. She radiated golden light that made the air hazy around her like she was from a dream of mine. She stood close to a section of rock, still hugging the side to keep her sheltered. The Book sat at her feet. It was her eyes that rooted me to where I stood. The steel grey was replaced entirely by vibrant orange irises. Embers in a fire were too dull. I was staring into the sun but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. 

“You’re safe, Nes.” 

“You came,” she said. Her voice echoed in my ears like she was infinitely close and impossibly far. I took steps towards her, equally measured and unrushed. Her eyes flicked over me as I did and that was when I knew the Cauldron wasn’t controlling her. The gesture was entirely Nesta’s. 

When I stood nearly toe to toe with her, I lifted my finger slowly to her chin. I brushed my finger over her skin. She felt warm to the touch. I breathed in the scent of smoke and nodded, smile flitting over my lips. “You called.” 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> needed a fluff chapter, will continue to add more plot-relevant fluff chapters until i can face the angst

**Elain:**

The air was tense even after Morrigan, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand vanished from sight. Lucien held my waist close, feeling my panic. I’d been in the garden when my visions came. Lucien and I had grown used to the visions happening at night. It was unexpected when they came right before lunch. But I was thankful they had. I’d seen Nesta change her mind. She never was supposed to agree to unite both pieces of the Book. As far as I could see, her goals laid with the Cauldron. She banked her future on reuniting with the Cauldron and letting go of her magic the first chance she got. These were dreams I could support after the other options she explored. 

But reuniting the Book once again changed the future. I’d have to be ready in case she changed her mind again. When she did, my visions needed to catch up and I barely had enough time to react. No sooner had I come out of vision than I was screaming for Lucien. He hadn’t gone far but my terror blinded me momentarily. 

Without preamble we winnowed to the war camps. There was no time for a cryptic letter. Nesta was in danger and my magic could kill me for all I cared, I’d do all in my power to stop her from falling back into Hybern’s hands. I still made sure not to reveal anything but my panic made it abundantly clear that death was moments away. 

I eased my chest back, a shaky breath escaping me. I knew she’d be okay now. Cassian would be faster. I hadn’t seen it yet but some things I knew without the aid of my visions. 

Helion rose calmly. Everyone remaining in the room just peered at us, completely unaware of the danger we tried to avert. The certain demise we’d all face if I wasn’t fast enough. They all didn’t know Nesta’s importance. To them, she was a Night Court fae. If they knew she held the world in the palm of her hand, I doubt they’d stand so still. 

“Are you alright, Elain?” he asked, golden eyes studying me. Sincerity was rich in his voice which, I took, to be a rare occurrence by the shocked expressions in the room. It was no wonder he had avoided the war camps for so long. I realized Lucien and I enjoyed a much more thoughtful male than the rest of the world. 

My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth so I swallowed instead of replying. Lucien pressed a kiss to my temple. “Could we wait in your quarters for them to return?” he asked, his warmth steadying me.

Helion dipped his head. “I’ll have lunch sent over. You’re much to pale,” his eyes glimmered, focusing on me, before he left us. 

Lucien and I turned to follow but were interrupted. “You’re the Seer.” Lucien stiffened and it was my turn to thread my arm through his, tightening my grip. I was small but no less strong. Lucien had already turned, body interrupting the distance from me to the High Lord. 

“Kallias,” Viviane chided. “Her name is _Elain_.” 

“Elain,” he amended, blue eyes flicking over me like he could confirm for himself whether or not I was a Seer. Lucien was growing tenser by the moment. I brushed my fingers over his bicep soothingly. The Winter Court fae standing behind the mated pair followed their High Lord’s lead and inspected me for themselves. Lucien didn’t like that either. I kept my face as collected as possible, blank and devoid of expression. “Would you stay for dinner with our Court?” he invited, tilting his head. Despite Viviane attempting to soften her mate’s directness, she too watched me with expectant eyes. 

Lucien had warned me this might happen. Or rather _would_ happen eventually. The invitations, the expectations and countless impositions to my person. I tried not to shy away even as their stares had long since passed rude and invasive. 

I decided to turn the feeling back on them. I narrowed my eyes on the pair, pursing my lips slightly. I realized why Cassius was described as a rather odd fae. You needed to be a little odd to keep others at a distance. The Winter Court fae reacted as I expected, taking in my expression with interest. “And you’re Kallias.” I stated, glancing over his beautifully embroidered silver deel. 

He nodded firmly. “High Lord of the Winter Court.” The air in the room had somehow managed to increase in intensity. All of their hearts clattering in terrible cacophony of noise in my ears. 

I realized a moment too soon I’d accidentally dropped the honorific but found that it suited my needs anyway. I’d spent too long in familiar company with Rhysand and Helion to remember they were Lords in their own right. _Lucien and I are a Lord and Lady and I still forget that._ The only title I couldn’t seem to forget was _Seer._

I made a noise of contemplation before saying, “I see.” I tugged Lucien’s arm and let my mate sweep me from the room before anything more could be said.

Lucien was quiet on the walk back from the war tent that I might have thought I upset him besides for the shock and mirth I felt through the bond. _Had I been too bold?_ Lucien would be High Lord one day and I could have hurt his relations with the Winter Court. It was a reckless thing to do. I peaked a glance at Lucien’s face but his mask of amused indifference was solid. I scolded myself the entire way back. 

He kept his arm tight on me, guiding me through the camp without ever letting my hip fall out of contact with his. The jungle was thick so paths were cut narrow and restrictive. Those we passed on the way had little interest in either of us. No one knew my face yet and Lucien was pleased to keep me a secret for as long as he could. Yet, when some eyes eventually lingered on me, Lucien’s instincts lunged. I kept my hold on him just as tight. My nerves hadn’t settled down from the encounter with Kallias just yet. When we entered the Day Court’s camp, soldiers snapped to attention. Helion had ensured everyone understood who we were once my abilities as a Seer were made public; he explained that the Day Court would protect us. Though I was the Seer, his gaze had been on Lucien when we spoke. 

When we entered the tent Helion designated for our use, Lucien laughed so suddenly I nearly jumped. He kept me tethered by my arm but he continued to laugh without explanation. His face reddened at the cheeks as it continued, filling the silent room with his mirth he kept to himself. When he straightened, I raised a brow. I’d been nervous I upset him. I had felt my mate’s shock through the bond. My first interaction with another Court as a Seer and I’d snubbed them. “What is so funny?” I whispered, trying to keep the offense out of my voice. 

He continued to chuckle, even as he walked across the room to where lunch awaited us. He took his seat and pulled an end of bread from a loaf, raising the steaming dough to his mouth. As he chewed, he spoke, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over Kallias’s expression. Did you mean to drop his title or were you aiming to rile him?” I tried to decipher his voice, pick out all the emotions and dissect them. 

“That was an accident,” I declared hotly. I still stood, watching Lucien chew and waiting for some verdict. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Even my neck and shoulders were blushing. 

“No, love,” Lucien shook his head, smiling while chewing. “ _That_ was hilarious. I have never seen Kallias express as many emotions as he did given a few minutes in a room with you.” 

“So you’re not mad?” I questioned, taking a hesitant step forward. 

“Mad?” he raised his brows, dipping another tear of bread into an oil and olive spread. His eyes flicked to mine to study me again, tugging on the mating bond to get a sense of my confusion. As he did, I came closer. He reached a hand out, beckoning me while he continued to attempt and understand my thoughts. “How could I be mad at you?”

I stood between Lucien’s legs, glancing at my sandals and then back again to my mate’s curious gaze. “For snubbing the High Lord of the Winter Court,” I muttered. My honey curled hair fell to partially hide my face. 

Lucien’s hand found mine, tucked in the folds of my dress. He threaded his fingers through mine, the oil on them making them soft against me. He tipped my chin to meet his eyes while he leaned forward in his chair. “I prefer your response to the Winter Court’s intrusiveness than mine,” he smiled softly. I recalled his ire. I guess my response was leagues more diplomatic than what Lucien’s would have been. His eyes grew harder, hand in mine tightening. “They’re overly bold and I wish I could shield you from that.” He brought my fingers to his lips before tugging me onto his lap. “Feel free to snub every High Lord and Lady you want,” he mumbled against my hair. 

I laid my head on his chest. “Even if it’s poor diplomacy?” 

He laughed, curling one arm around my waist. “Especially then. I was not born an heir. I became one and I don’t intend to set the same standard,” his voice was firm. He’d been thinking about this a lot. Undoubtedly since Helion began slowly guiding Lucien through the Day Court’s politics. He patted my side. “Sleep, I can tell you’re tired.” 

“I can go rest on the bed.” 

He tightened his hold. “No, I can work from here,” he said. As if to prove it, he summoned his quill and paper notes. Another tome landed heavily on the table. Appeased, I nestled my head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slept and at some point, my dreams moved to visions. They passed easier this time. I held my breath for the one of Nesta but I hadn’t been wrong. Cassian found her like I knew he would. The only other vision of note was that I’d obviously have to return to Eris as the errant fae wasn’t heeding my warning. I’d yet to see another of Feyre. She was changing her mind too often that each one of more different and drastic than the last. But she was safe so far and for that, I woke with a warm feeling in my gut. It vanished when I took stock of how stiff I’d become, curled for so long in Lucien’s lap. 

He rested a book in my lap, one finger following the text as he read. Sometime during my sleep, he’d finished off a loaf of bread and made a dent in some of the pickled vegetables. He pressed a kiss to my ear, lips running along the shell. “Sleep well?” 

I nodded slowly, leaning into his warmth. I’d had some visions. I could still sleep more. My mind hadn’t fully awakened. My ability wreaked havoc on my sleep. I now fell asleep near dusk and woke before dawn had lit the sky. Visions continually came and sometimes I felt as if I straddled the present and the future. Lucien had left a room to come back a moment later and find me in another vision. He preferred to do all his studying near me now in case that happened. I had no control when they came and Lucien wanted to be nearby. I sank back against him. 

He stroked my waist softly, pressing another kiss to my neck. I tilted my head back, enjoying the laziness. This brief moment between tasks and responsibilities, where neither vision nor duty propelled either of us. The scent of cinnamon was welcome. He flipped the page of his book idly but I was focused on his other hand, where it had sunken to hold my thigh. His long fingers stretching over to knead the skin. He couldn’t have _not_ smelled my desire even if we were halfway across the continent from one another. Not only my scent but our mating bond gave me away yet Lucien hummed thoughtfully as he read. I squirmed but his arm was an anchor, holding me fast. 

His hand dragged up the skirt of my dress to slide along the soft flesh of my thigh. I gasped. The hand that held his book kept firmly on the page even as I was burning in his lap. Sweat beaded down between my breasts as all sensation narrowed to the one hand traveling further up my bare thigh. He stroked an indulgent finger across my wet core and my head tilted back, cries dying before they passed my lips. Only a slightly strangled noise escaped and he pressed his lips to the junction of my neck and shoulder as if to say _I know, I know._

He slipped his finger between my lips and I pressed my eyes shut. My back went rigid while my muscles loosened. His hand was hard over my lower abdomen, seating me firmly against him and his arousal. I inched against him but he only held me firmer, focusing all his attention on me and his book. I wanted more and Lucien abided my unspoken demands with a second finger, wringing the pleasure from my body. His fingers thrusted inside me while his thumb stroked my clit steadily. My thighs were impossibly tight. I could feel him hard against my back and I so desperately wanted more. All my desires echoing through our shared bond and he smiled, distractedly kissing my neck. Lucien was content to watch me ignite, fully enjoying how I came apart in his arms.

I barely held my cry when I came. I was sure if I let myself, I’d scream. My chest heaved and cheeks burned, feeling like I’d been split apart and then put back together again. Lucien scooped my legs back against him so I curled into him once more. The air felt chill on my sweat-dampened skin but Lucien’s warmth was a pleasant contradiction. He kissed my equally wet forehead and nuzzled me there. “Sleep, love.” Without complaint, I shut my eyes. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again with the angst
> 
> Hazy Shade of Winter - Gerard Way

**Feyre:**

I was uncomfortable when I left my chambers and I was even more uncomfortable when I entered the drafty room where Drakon resided. Nothing that I passed on my way to meet Drakon was familiar in my eyes. From the wings that were covered in downy white and peach feathers to the smock-like and shapeless clothing. My own dress, vest-like at my chest, hung loosely around my body which was a popular trend. The soldier in front of me wore a loose vest as well and billowing trousers. 

Everything was carved from simple grey stone without decoration except for a few hanging paintings that I didn’t recognize. The hallways were narrow with gaping windows overlooking a thick forest below. Mist still clung to the canopy in some places. We were up on a hillside of some sort. 

“Would you like help, my Lady?” the male escorting me asked softly. He spoke near a whisper. He bent his head to meet my eyes, smiling in a way I would have thought encouraging some other time. 

I was more agitated by his closeness. My skin prickled. “No,” I shook my head even though he could hear my thundering pulse. He continued to watch me carefully which only brought him closer. By the time we arrived at Drakon’s chambers, sweat coated my skin. I was exhausted. If I hadn’t been fae, I would have said I was near feverish from the strain of walking. The male besides me studied me once before swallowing heartily and opening the door for me to enter. 

A vast grey stone chamber without a single scrap of detail awaited me. It was like Under the Mountain except above ground. Only Drakon stood in the room. He wore similar apparel except his was dyed in a deep shade of green. When I entered, both his eyebrows raised as he took me in: my loose smock to my grimy skin and greasy hair. The bandages that swallowed up all sight of my skin that if it didn’t show the bruising, still felt tender. I wish I could have felt some type of shame or regret for not washing up but I was too tired for those emotions. My heart could only be split in so many directions. 

“Prince, I brought the Lady,” the male dipped his head, nervous as Drakon grew even more worried. 

“Thank you, Tadeo,” Drakon nodded. “Would you bring the Lady some food?” Tadeo dipped his head to Drakon before giving me a parting glance as well. The echo of closing doors behind me preceded the silence quickly enveloping the room. I glanced to my bare feet, finally realizing I didn’t have shoes. It was no surprise. I hadn’t had shoes since I woke on the ship. The only thing I’d managed to keep ahold of were my earrings. I clutched them in my left hand. 

“Care to sit?” Drakon asked, standing too still for my comfort. The more he moved, the more I could study him but at the moment he was as nondescript as the rest of this damnable island. I refrained from observing his wings. They seemed like a cruel echo of what I knew to be familiar. They were beautiful as they reflected sunlight from iridescent feathers; each feather glimmered brilliantly with all colors of the rainbow. I couldn’t enjoy their charm. They weren’t the black, membranous ones I was so used to. They weren’t the ones I looked for in the sky, even if an Illyrian’s wings weren’t filled with plush feathers and sparkled in the light. They were home all the same and I knew firsthand how black could be equally aweing and serene. 

I shook my head. He motioned to a chair but I didn’t sit. I wanted to stand. I was tired and my head felt light but I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to. Even as my body demanded rest, my feet were itching to turn tail and run. 

“So what am I to call you? Rhysand’s mate?” he prompted when I remained silent. I didn’t have anything to say. I wanted to go home. I was free as far as I was concerned so I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t already home. If I stayed any longer, there was a chance something would go wrong and I’d never make it home. I needed to get home. A real ache had started in my chest that I’d be caught in a perpetual cycle of events leading me further and further away from my mate. 

_ Nothing works how you think it will.  _ Jurian’s words were growing more and more taunting. 

Drakon furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to speak. “I don’t recognize you. I used to know many of the High Fae of Prythian but I can’t place your origin. Might be Dawn Court?”

“My name is Feyre,” I answered tonelessly. My first words that were not spoken out of hostility. 

“Lady Feyre,” he nodded, smiling softly. Along with his melodic voice was a smile that could win hearts but my own felt cold. I didn’t want this male in front of me. “And I’m Prince Drakon.” 

Now that our introductions had passed, I engaged him in a staring contest. The first to wither and die loses. I might have withered but the grit in my blood told me I was a long way from dying. As Jurian had said to me, I was supposed to meet the dawn many times and hadn’t. This was all borrowed time. He sighed. “Why don’t you sit? You must be exhausted.” As if to invite me further, he sat as well. He folded his hands on top of the table, casting an expectant glance at me. 

I took a seat on one of the stools circling the wooden table. The room smelled of paper and ink. The table was worn around the edges with imperfections scattered on it but it didn’t have the same age as any of the furniture in the House of Wind. Another awkward silence followed. If I had been Drakon and I nearly killed a supposed ally’s mate like a lame horse on a beach, I’d also struggle for the right words as well. My heart still raced when I thought back to the beach. I almost died again, faceless and nameless. Rhysand wouldn’t have known what became of me. How after everything that transpired, how far I came just to die as easy as snuffing a candle.

My throat tightened and I glanced at my hands. My fingernails were chipped and broken, dirt under them. Scratched in a trillion places and stained a shade darker than my skin color. Dried blood rimmed the nail beds. I became aware of Drakon’s eyes on me. I cleared my face of emotion though my mask hadn’t broken. “Would you like to go back and rest, Lady Feyre?” he asked, not unkindly. I shook my head. 

“I want to return to Prythian,” I stated. “And I’ll be taking the two I arrived with when I do.” 

“Back to your mate,” he prompted. He searched me, scouring for every detail he could. It was when I looked to the map at the table did I fully understand why. A large, cloth map of the world sat on it that was weighed down at the edges by white pebbles. I’d dismissed it at first as just another map but this one was special. It was painfully outdated. It still had the Wall dividing the Human Realm from Prythian. No account of troop movements or battles fought to mar it. It was a map of a world that didn’t exist anymore. Drakon didn’t know what the world had turned into beyond his island. 

“Mates are so rare. They are intertwined strings of fate, some say it makes them barely even capable of their own freewill,” He persistently attempted to bait me. It wasn’t malicious but teasing and that was precisely what made it so unbearable. “Mates are equals in all things which makes you extremely powerful and I can see now you share other traits with Rhysand.” Everytime he mentioned Rhysand, I struggled to retain a twitch. All those that taunted me while Hybern’s prisoner with my mate’s name couldn’t elicit the same reaction. They never said his name right. It lost its magic on their inept tongues. Drakon, though, spoke Rhysand’s name with a warmth that made me want to choke him out. It elicited too many painful memories. 

The door opened again. The fae male who followed me, Tadeo, brought in a tray of food. It was an assortment of fresh fruit and vegetables with bread and salted meats. Iced water and a pitcher of a deep red juice, pomegranate from the scent, accompanied the meal. Plain enough not to upset but stomach but still higher in quality than what I had been eating. 

“Eat,” Drakon prompted. “Thank you Tadeo.” The male left wordlessly but my ears told me he didn’t move far, still within a shout’s range. I eyed the food. I’d gone so long on rations that if I gorged, I’d throw up the rich food. I could tell just by looking at the fat banding the salted meat it was richer than what I was used to. I took bread and nibbled on it as a test. Drakon watched my every movement with interest. 

When I finished the piece of bread, Drakon continued to speak. “Why do you have a bargaining tattoo when you should have a mating tattoo?” 

“Is that really the question you want to ask me?” 

His eyes flashed. “Would you answer the question I want to ask you?”

“No,” I had no interest in bonding with this male. I needed to leave this place, this nightmare that refused to  _ end. _ “I only want to return home and I will return once I am able to,” I replied even though he didn’t ask the question. I was exhausted. I couldn’t reach my mate. Sweat beaded my brow. It could join the rest of the filth that covered me. A part of me didn’t want to bathe. If I got clean, if I healed then I could be rebroken. The layer of filth kept them away and I so desperately craved distance. My body was taking its time healing and I ached everywhere, especially inside my skull. It was curious that as empty as my head felt without Rhysand’s voice, the pressure was immense. 

Drakon tilted his head. “My healer tells me you’re not in a position to assault our wards once more. Even so, I’m not entirely willing to risk you shattering my people’s protection.” 

“I won’t shatter it and I’ll tell you when I’m healed,” I ground out. 

“How did you get separated from Rhysand? I don’t believe Rhysand would let you out of his protection for a minute,” he stated, leaning forward onto the table. His brown eyes were serious enough. They were intense and filled with concern. Somehow I’d gone from being another of Hybern’s dogs to a female of debatable import. “Was this another Court? How did you come to my island then?” I laughed then but didn’t smile. Court politics seemed so trivial but it was that very ridiculous notion that led to me being taken from my mate. “And what is so funny? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me—”

“Help me? You almost murdered me in cold blood yesterday and you think I need your  _ help _ ?” I asked incredulously. Maybe this male could help me and I was being immensely stupid by rejecting his sincere offer, but I was short on trust these days. 

He stiffened, swallowing my statement but nodding through it. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “That was two days ago, Lady Feyre. You’ve been in my infirmary for two days, unconscious. After what my healers have told me could only have been torture plain and simple. You needed my help and still need it now,” he sat back in his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and I had to look away. It looked too familiar for me. My eyes stung. “I can’t take back what happened on the beach but I can help you now if you will let me.” 

I stared at the open stone windows. The sun was shining so bright that the room was flooded with golden rays. It was so beautiful even from inside that I lurched at what the nighttime would bring. 

“I ask you again, Lady Feyre. What happened?”

I sighed. “You really do not know,” I shook my head, still comprehending the isolation Drakon and his people lived in on this island. He frowned. “You’ve been away for too long, Prince,” I drawled out. “I could start when the King of Hybern ransacked Adriata and turned it to rubble, after all that was the beginning of the war,” as I spoke, his face grew ashen. The rich dark color bled out with every word like I was draining him of life. “But really, the true beginning was fifty years ago when Amarantha enslaved every fae in Prythian for her to rule over as Queen.” 

“Amarantha?” Drakon echoed. He was very familiar with the name. It seemed history revived itself. 

“She died. But Hybern took her place,” I swallowed. Her name was still ash on my tongue; her face was just as clear in my memories. My neck twinged with a phantom pain. It used to be only Amarantha in my nightmares but Hybern will have taken her place there as well. An idea sprang to life and I eyed the food tray. I rose to my feet and grabbed the pitcher of pomegranate juice. I poured a small trickle down over the southern half of Prythian, staining the Summer, Spring and Human Realm. The map soaked up the deep crimson, spreading it across the features just as the war had poisoned the land itself. Drakon watched numbly. “Hybern controls nearly a third of Prythian. I guess that’s unsurprising since he used the Cauldron to do it. I’ve...I’ve been away for sometime so he could have taken more. I won’t know until I return.” I didn’t know how much time had passed. I tried to keep track but everytime I slept it could have been for days. My body lunged at rest everytime it got the chance. 

Drakon sat speechless. I sat the pitcher down with an audible  _ clang.  _ He startled at the noise, eyes flicking to mine. I felt mixed about revealing the war to him. This island had lived beyond the scope of the world, a safe harbor from war and destruction. With my announcement, I reminded the Prince that the world had grown no kinder in the years he had been absent. Velaris may be kept secret but it was not ignorant of the world around it. My people knew how lucky they were to be shielded so thoroughly; even so, I still wondered if that was right. I pushed away my tangle of thoughts. “If you’re honest about helping me, you’ll see that I am returned to my mate.” 

His eyes were dark pits while they measured my own. They almost resembled Jurian’s with the fury contained within. Drakon’s jaw tightened as he glanced back to the map of red. Relief flooded me when he nodded. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...🤷♀️ 
> 
> Never let me go- Florence and the Machine   
> Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

**Nesta:**

I was used to Cassian’s particular brand of silence. It wasn’t truly silent at all. He breathed too loudly. When he walked, his footsteps were never quiet. How his broad shoulders and height made his presence fill a room. Beyond all physical traits, it was his demeanor as well. The permanent grin hidden on his lips, ready to spring to life at a moment’s notice. The vibrancy of his hazel eyes. If I never had heard his heartbeat, I still would have known that he was full of life. 

That male was far away from me now. When the relief at finding me alive had subsided, something else had risen inside him. It felt like devastation, cavernous and empty. He left my side at some point after finding me Under the Mountain and carrying me back to Rhysand to winnow to Velaris. He was truly quiet. All his motions were rehearsed like his mind had gone to sleep while his body remained awake. He set me down in the House of Wind and returned wordlessly with Rhysand. Presumably to Under the Mountain. 

I’d watched the pair leave without a glance from either of them in parting. For Rhysand, that was expected. He’d been absent since Feyre was taken. Cassian however...his eyes found me in crowds just as well as in the dark, when I was tucked against his side. He kept his eyes trained on the space in front of him. 

I stayed a moment, thinking they might be back soon but after a few minutes had passed I gave up the notion. I went to Cassian’s room with the intent of changing but found I was too exhausted once I got there. The Book in hand, I was back to my shell of a self. I set it down on Cassian’s bookshelf and my magic came rushing back. The air filled with the gold vapors from my breathing. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know my eyes had reverted to their glowing selves. 

Sitting on the stone floor, I settled in for the breathing exercises Amren had taught me. I uncoiled my disheveled braid. I shrugged my shoulders until they hung relaxed at my sides. Though any other day, I would have cleaned myself rigorously to remove all the sweat, fear and dirt, my first need was to silence my magic. 

Deep breaths in and out until my thoughts had quieted down. It took longer than normal but I expected that. Cassian filled my mind. I had made it a point in my human life, when Tamlin restored Elain and I to status, that I’d never let another dictate my thoughts. Now, I didn’t wish to think of anything other than Cassian and the hole inside him. I should have said something to keep him from going but fear or cowardice paralyzed me. I didn’t have the words. 

So I promised myself I’d contemplate Cassian as soon as I put my magic to rest. I’d needed it in the pits, both to fight my exhaustion and to protect myself if another like Dagdan came along. I counted my breaths with my eyes closed, knees folded beneath me for as long as it took my mind to leave my body. When I had no sense of time and the rest of my world faded away, I rested my magic back inside me. The Cauldron continued to whisper but my magic no longer thrummed at the surface. I’d have to balance my time between holding the Book and not: silencing the Cauldron and not. What I thought to be a permanent solution was only a temporary aid to my current predicament. Amren had said the Book was more of a manual for manipulating the Cauldron. Her words implied the need to already possess the Cauldron. 

My head felt heavy at some point. The fog from the Cauldron thickened. My thoughts became less coherent as I felt my mind further distance itself from my body. I tried to move my fingers but felt nothing. Opening my eyes and the world remained dark. The Cauldron was calling me back. Exhaustion heavy on my shoulders, I went willingly. 

_ “They’ve been reclaiming the Andros,” an unfamiliar male stated, standing center of the grand throne room. The more he spoke, the faster his words came until they ran into one another. “We’ve been prevented from attacking. The Autumn Court has burned anything our soldiers can hide in. They are nearly clearing the forest to do it. We’ve no chance at surprising them.”  _

_ “Then shoot them with arrows. Dose them with faebane.” Hybern was far from sight but his grumbling echoed everywhere around me. His voice was hoarse. I hoped he’d been screaming even more. The night Feyre had escaped, the Cauldron was silent. When Cassian and I returned to our tent, the Cauldron woke me with Hybern’s enraged screams. Feyre had truly escaped and taken Tamlin and Jurian with her. If I could have laughed, I would have but it would only be worth it if he could hear me. _

_ “We’ve tried—”  _

_ “If they reach the western ocean, they will have split our forces in the north and south. You understand now?” Hybern didn’t shout. He hadn’t since Feyre’s escape. His voice was quiet and murderous. The male nodded quickly. “When Dagdan returns with the bitch we won’t have to worry over this. We won’t wait. They’ll be gone,” Hybern said more quietly, his voice fading into an angry mutter. It pleased me to know I was not the only one going mad.  _

I came from the Cauldron, disoriented as usual. The sun was setting, leaving the room in orange and yellow hues. My knees ached from sitting so long on the stone floor, blood pooling in my calves and feet. My bruises from falling earlier had all healed but I probably had just gifted myself some more. I’d sweat through my dress again. I needed to wash. My skin crawled. 

I slapped my hand on the corner of Cassian’s wooden bed frame for support, slowly rising from my wobbly knees. The joints cracked loudly. Straightening out my back was infinitely worse. Just as I was rolling my shoulders out, the door opened. Cassian had returned and with my magic resting within, I hadn’t felt his approach. 

In the fading sunlight, the mist of blood dotting his skin and armor looked vibrant and angry. His hazel eyes were still quiet and I had only myself to blame. I sniffed discreetly. His scent of cedarwood was, thankfully, unchanged but it smelled stronger like a forest right before a storm. He set about unbuckling his plate, tossing it to the floor. As it peeled away, the room filled with the scent of sweat and stale decay. He tossed his sword belt to the ground, under the wall holding Feyre’s sword. Each loud clang did nothing to fill the void. His gaze continued to linger on me, taking in details from my appearance. I wrapped my arms around my waist, wondering when I’d developed this obvious habit. I hadn’t felt this thoroughly scolded since Elain had foreseen my plans for the Cauldron. I never thought I’d have to find a way to shield myself from Elain but her abilities made it critical. 

When he’d peeled all armor away and stood in just a sweaty black tunic and churidars, he approached me. He held out his hand and I slipped mine into it’s calloused warmth. The habit we developed sparked some comfort inside me. I wasn’t completely worthless. The gaping pit inside him had only widened over the course of the day but you wouldn’t have known it. He held my hand tenderly, thumb stroking the back of mine in rhythmic circles. 

“I,” he swallowed to wet his mouth, “I need to know why you didn’t tell me.” It was the first time he broke eye contact with me. His greasy hair fell in front of his vision as he looked to our feet. “The truth. Without anything left out.  _ Please. _ ” Each word was heaved, like he could barely stomach saying them without pausing to repress nausea. 

I had expected the conversation to be difficult but not the reaction my body would have to seeing him so thoroughly distressed. My fingers twitched to brush back his hairs. I wanted to call for a meal for him, run the bath water at the very least. 

I sighed. I could not lie or avert his question. “You did not feel the bond,” I thought it would snap into place countless times. When he’d held me or looked at me with that awe or even when he was inside me, whispering my name like a prayer. All those moments and the bond never fell into place, I began to think it was for the better. Soon, I was convinced it was. I raised my free hand to his jaw, smoothing over the stubble I found. I made a streak of blood across the taut skin. He pressed his eyes shut. I focused on the neat crease between his brows. “I thought it would make it easier on you when you lose me.” 

He sucked in, eyes flying open. “What?” More questions fell unspoken from his lips but I heard them. 

I breathed deeply. Somehow, the truth left me feeling lighter. I thought this admission would kill me, to tell the male I loved that I’d someday part with him. But if anything, I felt relieved. He can mourn me appropriately now and be done. “If I don’t find the Cauldron, my mind will be lost and if I do, I’ll become it’s keeper. Where I go, I’ll bring nothing but death with me. I don’t expect the Illyrian Mountains to hide me well enough.”

His mouth opened but no words came out. His neck muscles strained in the evening light, shadows rising and falling on the planes of his body. The angular tattoos, just visible above the collar of his tunic, looked sharper than ever. He lifted both hands, slowly and carefully, to cup my face. They trembled as they settled against my cheeks like he might break me if was any rougher. “There isn’t a place in this world that you could go where I would not follow you,” he whispered, licking his lips. His instincts were pushing against mine this time; normally it was the opposite. “You are my mate and there is nothing that can stand between us.” 

The words rolled over me, sweet like honey and just as heavy. I should have been relieved but if anything I was terrified. I wanted Cassian to live. He couldn’t follow me where I would go. I bit my lip and shook my head. It had been easier when Cassian was blissfully unaware that we were mates. Then, I only had my own instincts to contend with. 

He swallowed. “Do you not want me?” 

“That’s not it,” I rushed to reply. 

Cassian’s eyes still looked wide with uncertainty. “Then what is it, Nes?” His voice was hushed. His thumbs brushed my cheekbones, fingers entangling with my dark hair. 

“My fate is with the Cauldron,” I confided, pressing my forehead against his jaw where his lips kissed it. “Yours must be somewhere else.” 

He breathed out, hot air flowing over my face. I glimpsed a rueful smile. “Then mine is as well,” he promised. I shook my head. He lifted my face, bringing my jaw up. The smell of our scents combined made my eyes burn. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head more insistently. His hands kept me still, safe in his arms. My chest pressed against his. I leaned on him, feeling myself pulled into his gravity. Even as I thought  _ no,  _ my hands held his face with equal firmness. I refused to let go of him just as he did with me, even when it was necessary. 

My refusals faded with the rest of my will and conscience. I clung to him. When he kissed me, I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him closer. I didn’t want to let go and Cassian wholly refused to. His kiss was searching and insistent. His hand cupped the base of my neck, fingers woven with my hair to ensure I was as close as I could get. My heart thumped to urge me into action. Coated in terror and decay, there was only the solace between us that was left unmarred. My fingers slipped beneath his tunic, parting the cloth from sweat-sodden skin to splay against the damp muscles of his back. His fingers felt the open bindings of my dress, tensing at the realization but I shook my head. I didn’t want to revisit the day’s events. Not now. 

He heeded my silent plea and skillfully undid the remaining buttons. I ran my fingertips over the muscles leading to his wings. The skin rippled with it’s own sort of gooseflesh, a shiver crawled its way up his spine. His face buried in my neck, kissing the junction. His tongue ran from my ear to my collarbone, nibbling the flesh. We peeled each other’s clothes away to fall in heaps at our feet. I let go of my notions of leaving him. I sat back on the bed, my knees rightfully bruised from kneeling. He knelt between my legs, taking me in. Reverence in his half-lidded gaze. Ash stained the space between my breasts: the remnants of my wards. The rest of me was unblemished as all the damage I contained was buried inside. His hands traced my curves from my breasts to my waist and then splayed against the tender skin of my inner thigh. My breathing hitched from the sensitive flesh he kneaded. 

My one arm supported me, the other tracing the lines of his abdomen. Some formed from the joining of toned muscles, others from scars. I trailed lower, skirting his hip. His hand hooked my knee and pulled until I was balanced at the edge. His finger found the slick of my core and slipped between. My head tilted back, exposing my neck and letting my hair fall back onto the bed in a knotted coil. I breathed out, relaxing in his hold. Our eyes locked. I held his cock at my entrance. He pressed into me, slow as when we first slept together. Our sighs came at the same moment. He leaned over me, forearm pressing into the bed and burying himself deeper between my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist. When he was fully within me, he laid his forehead against my collarbone. One hand gripping my hip tightly to guide me down his shaft. His wings flared above him.

“You’re my mate,” I breathed out, watching the black shadows his wings casted dance on the wall. He thrusted into me again and I arched against him. Our heavy breathing filled the room to join the scent of sweat and desire. He nodded to my declaration fervently. I smiled, hands fisting in the cover. He kissed down my neck, my sternum. My muscles tightened. Light inside me, separate from the Cauldron, filled me. My breath came in shorter segments but the words repeated over and over in my head until I knew he felt them too. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a hard week so you can bet all I have been looking forward to are updates and reading your comments. I shall reply soon when I'm a little more awake 😴 thank you guys for being patient with me
> 
> I'm Into You - Chet Faker

**Cassian:**

Nesta placed open mouthed kisses on my neck. We hadn’t gotten much in the way of sleep. We’d need yet another bath sometime soon. I glanced at the blue, pre-dawn light streaming in through the curtains and begged the sun to stay for a moment. I thrusted into her, listening to how her breath and heart synced. She straddled me, her torso flush against mine even though her knees rubbed the headboard. My wings were pinned almost to the point of pain but I ignored their protests. Her fingers were curled in my hair. When I moved, her thighs and core muscles splayed wonderfully as if to hold me closer. 

One hand cupped her ass, guiding her up and down my shaft at an unhurried pace. Every movement inside her prompted soft gasps that I collected like treasures. The mating bond hadn’t made its appearance. Nesta said it likely wouldn’t until she’d been rejoined with the Cauldron. I could accept that way of things for now. I still could feel her stronger emotions as they apparently had been pouring into me, unchecked. I’d have to learn to separate what she felt from my own emotions. 

Her fingernails scraped my scalp, feeling my thoughts straying. The bond was much more open on her end. It explained why she was so in tune to all my thoughts and emotions; I’d just chalked it up to another one of Nesta’s many talents. Her nails scraped my skin in another tantalizingly light touch. 

“Where are you?” she breathed. 

“Sweetheart,” I sighed, leaning my head back on the headboard. A smile usually born of too much beer found its way to my lips. “You wouldn’t mind if I told everyone we are mates?” my eyes traced a bead of sweat running between her breasts. Her head tilted back, exposing her neck. I was fascinated by her pulsepoint, where I could see the thrum of her heart clearest. 

“You’d go door to door?” she taunted, lips curling. 

I gripped her braid, still drying from our earlier bath. I threaded it around my hand. My thumb ran over the rich dark color. “Door to door,” I nodded, dropping it when she rolled her hips against minst. 

“You cannot,” she breathed, voice light and airy albeit final. I snapped to attention. She’d said her reasons for not telling me and yet my fears whispered in the back of my mind. Sensing my change, she lifted from my shoulder. Steely eyes pursued my face, tracing her finger from my cheeks to the bridge of my nose, broken one too many times to be straight. “Hybern would target you. I’d rather all arrows not be directed at you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut like I could forget the name. “Nes,” I sighed. “Maybe try not mentioning the males name while I’m inside you, hm?” 

She smiled in a way that transformed her entire face. Not a small one she reserved for the public or for when she thought herself particularly clever. It was carefree and lifted her eyes, amusement glittering in them like sunlight on a blade. Her laugh bubbled out, chest hiccuping as it did. I felt the warmth of her affection through her skin as her blush hit her cheeks and darkened them to purple in the blue morning light. 

“I shall make you a deal,” she began, resting herself on her forearms against my chest. “When all our enemies are dead, you can tell whoever you’d like.” 

My first instinct was to promise that I’d keep Nesta’s list of enemies to the bare minimum; however, the events with Dagdan were still raw for me. Maybe not for Nesta but inside I felt a faint shake at what almost had happened despite my promises of protecting her. I squeezed her close to steady the part of me still trembling. 

I had grown used to her personal form of speaking, where her words were carefully selected for their dual meanings or implications. She’d figured out a way of never lying but sparing feelings all the same. But I wouldn’t let this conversation settle for a moment without clarifying. She’d assured me she wasn’t ashamed in so many ways and yet, my insecurities demanded recognition and resolution. “Sweetheart, not all my enemies are on the battlefield,” I smiled back at her. 

“Then you better get to work,” she shrugged, grinning. 

**Morrigan:**

Cresseida wasn’t in danger of losing her life. She’d pushed herself too far and would regret it for the next few days but as far as risk went, it was minimal. I still remained with her. My mind told me to leave. I’d no claim to the female other than assisting her in a few tight situations. Staying would only create problems but I remained anyway. 

We met Rhysand at the heart of the Mountain, the room glowing eerily from the light he casted. Shadows danced on the wall like ghosts still held court down here. 

Rhysand hadn’t failed to notice the Summer Court fae leaning over my back but he somehow prevented himself from asking. Cresseida was completely ignorant to the struggle around her. She fell asleep and stayed that way once I had positioned her comfortably on my back. 

I’d prepared myself for his reaction. Azriel even stiffened but Rhys remained silent, observing me and nodding to himself. I’d abandoned a clear directive. I was supposed to find Nesta. Rhysand shouldn’t have had to make our orders explicitly clear. In hindsight, if my actions resulted in Nesta’s endangerment, Cresseida wouldn’t have lived anyway. None of us would have because Hybern would have his victory. 

It was a last minute decision born of rash emotion. I wanted to apologize but I couldn’t formulate the words and it was because I wasn’t sorry. I didn’t wish harm on Nesta but I clung to the female on my back like a lifeline I hadn’t felt until it was cut. From his expression, my cousin could have been stunned speechless or attempting to keep his anger in check. As he spoke, I felt the weight of his purple eyes each time they happened upon me. His face was blank and magic relatively controlled while mine had done a tailspin. I created scenario after scenario of what must he be thinking and for the first time in what must have been centuries, my neck flushed. 

He explained that Cassian found Nesta but we were still searching for the rest of Hybern’s troops. We had the opportunity to clear them from the caves. His voice rasped as he spoke, something glowing in his eyes that I had no desire to see the reasons for. Cassian was gone, already working on whittling down Hybern’s numbers with a special sense of dedication. Azriel and I were to split up within the tunnels to cover more ground. I didn’t mention that holding Cresseida limited me strictly to use of my magic. I’d never practiced wielding a sword without hands. 

“Mor, take her back to the Summer Court camp,” Rhys said before Azriel and I could part.

“My magic is not nearly drained,” I replied, firming my voice.

“I wasn’t asking,” he shot back, brows furrowing. “You’re responsible for her safety beyond your own now. Get to the camps and return when you’re able to do so.” Nothing he said was malicious or particularly hurtful but the absence of emotion was enough to drive the point home. He didn’t know what to think so he was reserving judgement until he had all the facts. “Return using the tunnels you came. Azriel and I will ensure you’re covered,” he added once I had agreed with a nod of my head. Azriel gave me a lingering glance that I didn’t want to meet. Though my shoulders hadn’t dropped, I felt as if I was slinking back into the dark recesses from which I emerged. Tail tucked firmly between my legs. 

Cresseida was barely conscious on my back. Her head lolled about on my shoulder, hair tickling my shoulder. I tried to keep my pace even so she would be disturbed the least. Her hands wrapped snugly around my neck. At one point, she shifted her weight and I tightened my grip under her knees, willing her to keep still. Her confusion mounted until her heart hammered into my back. Fear leached into her lemon-like scent. 

“We’re almost out,” I whispered. Dull shouts could be heard if I strained my ears. Az, Cass and Rhys were keeping Hybern’s soldier’s far from Cresseida and I. Retracing the earlier steps Azriel and I had taken, the floor grew slick from the soldiers who fell on their own blade. Her thighs tightened around my waist, nodding and mumbling something incoherent. When her stress abated, I let out a breath. Her panic incited more inside me. 

When we grew close to the exit, I could smell the lift in the air. A cool breeze that beat back the stale scents of iron and stone. I sucked in greedily. I’d grown too accustomed to the scent of decay that it took a pristine mountain range to remind me of how far life had fallen. In the days where I was kept at my father’s beck and call, the Court of Nightmares smelled similarly to Under the Mountain. Cloistered up underground, smells festered and atrophied like the rest of the Court. When we would visit with Rhysand and his parents, I was envious at how fresh the air smelled, even if we normally met up in the Illyrian Mountains. 

I breathed in deeper just to prove I could. 

Returning to the Court of Nightmares after the betrothal to the Autumn Court was broken only worsened the cloying scents, preparing to choke me. One day, I would return not as heir to my father’s seat but as Steward to the Court of Nightmares. I awaited that day eagerly. I had plans. The Court of Nightmares was not solely under Rhysand’s control; he needed the permissions of the Steward to make changes to doctrine and law. When I was Steward, Rhysand and I could make those changes. Despite the embarrassment I brought my family when I escaped my betrothal, they still couldn’t disinherit me. Stewardship awaited me beyond my role as Rhysand’s Third. 

_ No. _

As much as my father loathed me, disinheriting is much harder and less subject to the whimsy of the holder of the title. High Lords have it easier. The High Lord’s title was the only title to pass solely based on power. Attraction, personality and many other traits were irrelevant. Power mattered most. A High Lord could have a mate in a pine tree and as long as an heir could be produced, there’d be no question as the power would transfer to the heir. But any other title had rules inflicted on it. Like the Night Court where bloodline was revered above all else. Families were large. If the heir was not willing to produce an heir to continue the bloodline, the title would be given to another. Kier could only disinherit me on two conditions: the loss of magical power or the loss of ability to produce an heir. 

Kier tried to disinherit me on the second account. Jammed nails into my body to destroy my womb but in the following months, my period returned and with it, any hope Kier had at taking the title from me. Now, it was a waiting game.

I winnowed into the Summer Court’s camp, preparing for an onslaught. Healers were called. They took her from my back and despite the ache in my muscles, I missed her weight. She was taller than me but she felt light as a feather when I held her. Holding her was work I didn’t mind sweating and toiling over. I don’t know what carried me but my feet moved in the direction the healers took her. I slipped into her tent behind them, pressing against the wall to keep as unobstructive as possible. They tucked and  _ tsked _ , buzzing around her and using the Dawn Court’s magic to check her vitals. As her magic was exhausted, there wasn’t much they could do except leave a strong tea for when she woke and a shrug at the headache she’d surely sport. 

I sat next to Cresseida’s mattress, tucking in for a wait. Eagerly, I unstrapped my sword belt and set it next to me. I didn’t bother with my armor. Her tent was mostly centered around a great rug where pillows circled around a low table. Her mattress, directly on the ground, not too far off to the side. Shells filled with wax and a wick burned, releasing a salty smell into the air like the ocean was steaming into the room. She looked peaceful while she slept, swathed in deep blues and silvers of her fine blankets. Her pink hair looked like a painful contradiction to the color scheme. In a small clay dish by the bed, she held all her little trinkets. The shells and precious metals she wove into her hair. Some other larger pieces were laid on the table but they likely never saw use. 

Wherever she kept her battleplans, they were well hidden. The room looked ready for company and a night of wine rather than a war; I knew Cresseida as a better strategizer than to leave all the planning to Varian and Tarquin. 

I thought one of them would send for Varian but if they did, her twin didn’t come. Whatever held him up must have been important; the two were inseparable and famously devoted to each other. They must be the only siblings in the world that actually loved one another. Kier had never saw fit to grant me siblings. Fate wouldn’t have it. I, personally, wanted sisters. Little ones I could dress up like dolls and teach all the ways of charming an audience into agreeing to preposterously unfair terms. 

Ideas formed in my mind. The healers left Cresseida unwashed. They’d discarded her armor in a heap and checked her body for wounds but didn’t move further. I wasn’t about to bathe her but the longer I sat, awaiting Varian, the more her pink-stained hair bothered me. Iron still tinged her scent. Licking my teeth, I made my decision. I should have left but I wanted to stay. I rose to grab her basin of water for washing. Carefully toting it to her bedside, I took a single braid and dipped it in. Working my fingers around it until the blood released like liquid smoke in the clear water. I dried each braid before setting it back on the bed, holding them each up for inspection. Only the ones that were so white they reflected all colors of the rainbow were passed. 

“What are you doing?”

I swiveled. Varian had finally arrived. He stood in the tent doorway, blue dawn light behind him. His face was less amused. 

I swallowed, rising to my feet. “There was blood in her hair.” His icy eyes surveyed me. “I didn’t want it to crust over,” I provided lamely. “I was waiting for you to come.” 

His jaw tightened.  _ Wrong words.  _ “I was held up,” he defended, eyes sliding to Cresseida. 

“She will be fine,” I smiled lightly, trying to instill a confidence in my demeanor I didn’t have. Not after being caught at something so innocent yet so  _ strange.  _ I wanted to kick myself. “Cresseida just exhausted her magic—”

“I see,” he said in a way that told me he didn’t see at all. He stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear. “You may go, Lady Morrigan.” Only after his purposeful use of my title did I realize my own mistake. I cut my losses and sighed, moving to the exit. He waited patiently for me, eyes flicking back to Cresseida at every chance. When I passed him, I almost stumbled. I hid the loss of center by ducking my head out of the tent. Varian closed the tent flaps behind me, shutting me out. Though I continued to walk into the night without further issue, my heart pounded. Varian had smelled like the Autumn Court when I passed. The day had brought too many painful memories to surface that the spiced scent threw me. I kept my shudders contained until I was locked away in the privacy of my own quarters. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/17: updated the chapter and it is a little heavy but I think it ends better than the last. stick with me guys, there is a light at the end of the tunnel!  
> This chapter will be added to tomorrow. It's a short one but kinda heavy so I gotta call it a night. 
> 
> Hate Me - Eurielle  
> Long Nights - Eddie Vedder

**Feyre:**

Tadeo brought me back to my room and took the time to tell me more about the strange island I found myself on. The rock palace was black stone because it was built on the side of an inactive volcano. I raised my brows at this. The only time I’d ever heard of volcanos was when they erupted, killing everyone in one blast with either smoke or fire. The stories always had two lovers running from the blaze only to realize they’d never escape a force of nature. In an act of love, they embraced and chose to die together at peace. Building a home on the side of one seemed to beg for that kind of tragedy. 

Tadeo promised the volcano was inactive. I didn’t care what Tadeo promised; I’d be sleeping with one ear trained on the mountain, listening for distant rumbling. The volcano did offer them some sort of protection. It clouded the waters, obstructing the island. No one had noticed an entire island disappear because the island hadn’t been visible even before. Jurian knew of the island because of his time as a slave on Hybern. I stood in disbelief how the past unburied itself.

The last fact Tadeo passed along was that hot springs were provided, courtesy of the volcano’s heat mixing with underground wells. I felt he saved this piece of information for last as I hadn’t yet bathed. He glanced away when I looked at him. When I was a human, being brought to the Spring Court for the first time, my uncleanliness was a mark against me. Alis had made a fuss over my lacking hygiene; I’d pretended the whispers didn’t bother me and yet, I made sure I bathed regularly and with vigor after. I felt I needed to prove myself better than a dirty human that was unearthed from a hovel. 

It was the opposite now. I didn’t need to prove anything. I didn’t care if my scent made eyes water and my fingerprints left dirty tracks. It kept them away but also my thoughts from my body. I hadn’t taken stock of my body since escaping Hybern’s prisons. Underneath a layer of grime, I was unchanged in my mind’s eye when I knew that wasn’t true at all. 

I grit my teeth. It had to happen eventually. “And where are the hot springs?” I skipped past the awe at the luxury. I’d need the steam. I felt a lingering cold sweat from draining my magic. My muscles needed relaxation. 

“I can show you now if you’d prefer,” he offered brightly, smiling now that I had taken the obvious bait. His feathers ruffled. My eyes widened at the movement. Rhysand didn’t have _feathers_ and I’d never seen him ever twitch his wing like Tadeo had done just then. Seraphim wings were beautiful but altogether unsettling. I missed the mechanical reliability of the Illyrian wing. They weren’t so beautiful but there was a unique sort of grace in something so sharp and broad that could move with the fluidity of water. 

“Are they private?” 

“No, they are shared by everyone. There are not separate baths—”

“Then perhaps another time I’ll go,” I’d go at night. I didn’t plan on sleeping and resting as was suggested. My first night not spent chained to a wall or hidden in some cell, I wouldn't waste indoors. 

Tadeo nodded stiffly. I pretended that I didn’t care. We stopped at my room. “The healers would like you to stay in residence until you can move into the village.”

“I won’t be spending so long here,” I tried to keep my voice level. Tried and failed. My gut seized at the idea of an extended stay. I hadn’t told Rhysand where I was. He could think I was dead. _I could have died on that beach._

“Of course,” he nodded curtly. “You’ll be returning to High Lord Rhysand when you’re healed.” It was the wrong thing to say. I had been about to turn into my room when he agreed. Stopping short, I glared at him. Possessiveness over my mate increased with distance. “We also know the stories of Prince Drakon and High Lord Rhysand as well,” he rushed to add. I accepted his answer, eager for escape. He might know the stories but I didn’t. Alis was the first to tell me the sordid tale of Jurian, Prince Drakon and Miriyam. Rhysand barely mentioned them to me. I felt like I was seeing a glimpse into his past. I wanted to study them all more to see if I could find the pieces of Rhysand imbued in their culture. I wanted to collect these fragments of my mate and hold them to me until I felt closer to him. 

I wasn’t alone when I entered my room. Tamlin stood inside. _He_ didn’t share my views on bathing but whether the bath did him any good was up for debate. He looked haggard and worn. He stood at the center of my room, his severed arm bandaged tightly against his chest, and hair haphazardly shorn so it was even. Looking firmly out of place. 

“What did Prince Drakon want?” he asked, taking in my less clean appearance. 

“Information,” I replied brusquely. “You can leave now.” 

“What information?” I glared as a response. I wanted solace. I wanted to be alone with my miserable thoughts and homesickness. “I suppose you haven’t told him how you came to be Hybern’s prisoner. He’d have thrown me in a cell by now. Or have killed me, as a way of saying sorry for almost killing you.” I’d forgotten how blunt Tamlin could be. Besides for his words, his entire presence was an intrusion. I didn’t want to look at the male. The longer he stood in front of me, the longer my anger boiled inside of me.

“Don’t tempt me.” 

“You won’t tell him. You would have by now if you wanted to.” 

“Leave,” I motioned towards the door. 

“Feyre—”

“Did you think you are forgiven?” I asked, looking at the stump of his left hand. Dagdan had done that when I killed his twin and Hybern prevented him from taking his significant anger out on me. Maybe if I held out against Brannagh, never antagonized her or her twin, Tamlin would still have his hand. And if Tamlin hadn’t bowed to Hybern, we wouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

He straightened, jaw tightening. His once broad physique now looked sunken in. A few weeks starvation and torture tended to whittle you down to your bones. I’d lost the muscle definition in my thighs; my brisk walk with Tadeo earlier proved that. Even my shoulders ached from handling a sword after so long without. Of course they also had two holes punched into them too. When I thought of the progress I lost, an overwhelming saddness threatened to drown me in hopelessness. I wasn't as weak as when I left the Spring Court but I'd fallen far. I'd lost so much and only now was I just seeing all the chunks taken out of me. 

“You think you lose your hand and can resume your title as High Lord? Forgiven?” I had stayed just past the doorway, hesitant to near the male but now I was angry. I stalked closer. I stopped a pace away. His stumped left arm was bandaged thickly in white cloth. I didn’t know what the expectancy was for spontaneous regrowth but I guessed it was slim. I wondered if they still had his hand. Maybe they planned to take a fingerbone from it and tie his consciousness to it like with Jurian. “You’re a traitor. Today and for the rest of your pathetic life.” 

He bowed his head. “Then why haven’t you told Prince Drakon?” 

He didn’t know that his death would leave me as the High Lady. Maybe it was selfish to leave his Court to have a traitor for a leader but I didn’t want that Court. I was already a High Lady in my own right of a Court I could be proud of. Whatever became of the Spring Court, of Tamlin, I wanted nothing to do with it. I’d let the High Lords exact justice and wash my hands of it.

“Because death would be too quick. You’d be a martyr. A casualty of war. You deserve to wallow in your own shame,” my lips curled back as I spoke. Unbidden, the last few months came flashing back. All the battles we fought seemed pointless when Tamlin had been working against us from the start. We hadn’t had a chance. 

He met my eyes. The emerald in them had returned. _He didn’t get it._ He still had some pride left and I wanted to extinguish it. I stepped closer until I was nearly chest to chest with him. His nostrils flared. I hoped he was offended at my scent. I hoped he could practically taste the agony from the past few weeks. “When you gave Hybern the location of the refugees,” I licked my lips. My eyes were beginning to sting. “You didn’t just kill all the humans I helped to bring to safety,” I shook my head. “In that attack, Hybern killed Hart. Oliver and Shepard. Remember them?” 

“I lost many Spring Court fae then as well,” he replied stiffly. 

“No,” I hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You _killed_ those fae yourself. And when Hybern took Lucien and flayed him to shreds, he also took my sisters,” I rushed out, breathless. Tamlin’s eyes widened. “My sisters were among those humans taken to the camps and forced into the Cauldron.” Tears streamed hot from my eyes. 

His mouth opened. 

“You could live a thousand centuries and never make up for the ones you’ve taken,” I sighed out, stepping away from him. I turned my back to him. The day was too sunny for how exhausted I felt. “Death is so simple. I want you to rot from the inside out.” When I turned back, he had left.

**Feyre:**

When Tamlin had left, I slunk into my bed and slept the afternoon away. There was nothing else to do. I could have stayed awake and miserable or at least rested as all the healers adamantly suggested. When I woke again, it was nearing dusk. I was grateful the healers hadn’t woken me. I’d held onto my earrings so tightly that imprints of them were in the skin of my hands. A written note sat on the nightstand besides me. 

_ Feyre,  _

_ If you’d like to join, Mir and I will be having dinner tonight. The healers have recommended rest but good food sometimes works better.  _

_ -Drakon  _

Drakon extended a written invitation for dinner. He wanted me to sit with him and Miriyam if I felt up to task. His wording was sensitive. I barely knew the male and I had the distinct impression he wanted me only to come because I wanted to. Vague appreciation flickered inside me for his forethought but I still declined to attend. I didn’t want to be sitting bitter at another mated couple because I couldn’t be with my own. My eyes focused on the petname,  _ Mir _ , and the words blurred. I didn’t particularly like Drakon but I didn’t resent his happiness. It just made me want my own back so direly. 

I pressed a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body swayed so I set a hand against the wall to stabilize. My stomach grumbled loudly. I thought my appetite might never return but when the worst of my feverish symptoms passed, I was ravenous. If it restored my magic, so be it. 

It took a while for a healer to pass my door but once I heard the footsteps, it was all I could do not to lurch from bed and ask where the nearest food hall was. They’d agreed to send a tray with a startled smile. After the first few bites didn’t send me off and reaching for a bucket, I continued to eat the food provided until I was full to bursting. Most of it was plain. Nothing was stewed or spiced. All vegetables and fruits were simply washed while the meat had been salted and smoked. The bread was relatively tasteless and for that I was grateful. It was likely the reason why I hadn’t sickened immediately.

Eating on the floor of my room, I must have completed the savage look. I was intent on rebuilding all the muscle I’d lost. It took significant restraint not to flex my magic to see how weak and trembling that’d become from disuse. 

Full dark was upon the island. A candle sat unlit in my chamber. The halls were quiet. Tadeo hinted that the majority of the island stayed elsewhere. I was hoping they’d stay away until I could at least bathe. I’d seen to sleeping, I’d eaten and now it was time to shed the last layer of my imprisonment. I brushed the crumbs off my loose smock and rose on wobbly knees, blood rushing to my sleeping muscles. 

Tadeo had meant to show me the bathing area. I hoped that didn’t mean they’d be hard to find but if it was a hot spring, I assumed as long as I was losing altitude then I should be getting closer. I’d been left with no soap or towels but I figured anything would be an improvement on my current status. 

My joints popped while I gingerly moved through the halls. In the empty walkways without another present, I felt like a ghost. It was easy to distance myself. I wasn’t actually here. This was a temporary stop and soon, I’d be home. All dreams and reality seemed to blend easier in the night. Nightmares as well but I wasn’t scared. This place didn’t threaten me as Under the Mountain had, despite how similar they looked with the black stone walls.

My suspicions were correct. I found stairwells that were open to the air. Large wax candles lit the staircase, dripping wax on the walls and providing just enough light to see me down each step. 

My first view of the night was short lived. I took a look at the stars and half-full moon and swallowed hard. Every color imaginable was visible tonight. Smoky wisps of green and purple that curled around each other like lovers. Yellow stars as thick as raindrops flecked the black. The longer I stared, the blurrier my vision got. I trained my eyes on what couldn’t hurt me. 

Outside, I could see just how high up the palace was built into the mountain side. Dense forest crowded the volcano’s base and nestled at the base were the telltale flickering lights of candles and campfires. A well-worn path zigzagging up the mountain side led to the stairwell I stood on. I considered heading off to see what became of that but when I got to the end of the stairs, I turned back into the palace. I’d explore a different day when I could appreciate what I saw. 

A dark entrance re-entered the volcano’s side. I knew the hot springs must have been close because the air inside the halls was thick with humidity. There was a stale scent to the air but pleasant almost, sulfur and moss. I trailed my fingertips on the wall as I walked. The walls felt wet to the touch as well. The floor got slick and steep. I was still barefoot. I flexed my tender toes, holding to the wall to keep myself steady. 

Around a bend, the darkness was beaten back by hazy yellow light. Steam filtered into the hallway, tendrils dissipating. The hallway opened up into a cavern. The ceiling wasn’t high but the cave extended far back to where my eyes couldn’t follow. Steaming pools of teal water bubbled all around me with random placement, like puddles in the earth. Torches were set up along the walls and a few stood towards the center but the room was still dark. It was obvious the room was meant to serve a large population. Wooden benches were scattered anywhere a flat, stable surface was found. I’d hoped to find towels but had no luck. 

Taking advantage of the empty space, I stripped as quickly as my body would allow. Raising my arms above my head to peel off my dress raised my attention to some wounds I never noticed before. I hadn’t been given small clothes or breast bindings but I was covered in enough gauze to pass as a second layer. Sitting on the edge of the spring, I slipped my legs into the scalding water. The heat made me hiss but I stayed still until I adjusted. Anything that helped me heal, I’d take it. 

I sat my earrings on the side with me like they’d keep me company in the dark.

My abdomen was well protected. They’d secured the gauze with thickly applied drush root, pasting the bandages to my skin. I chiseled away at each one until I developed a stack of brown-stained paper that smelled of iron and licorice. None of it smelled of rot so I figured my body was healing already. As I worked, I took note of all the changes. My bones protruded in some places they hadn’t before. My thighs bowed when before they hadn’t. 

I was well accustomed to the sight of my bony body. I’d grown up malnourished and starved. I thought those times were behind me; the times when the world stopped taking bites out of me. As my eyes skirted my paper-thin skin and the flecks of scars dusting me everywhere, I felt feasted upon. Pieces of me I’d never get back and that I never meant to let go of. The obvious, outward signs that Hybern had his fill of me. My eyes went to the three narrow scars between the span of my hips. 

_ Tainted.  _

I bit my lower lip. Without a second thought, I slipped entirely into the water. I hadn’t finished stripping the gauze on my shoulders but that didn’t stop me. I submerged beneath the water even when my skin screamed. The heat was scalding, igniting every nerve with raw pain. Squeezing my eyes shut as my chest felt close to bursting, I used the hot spring to burn away the layers of my skin I didn’t want anymore. 

I broke the surface with a gasp. The air felt frigid. I ripped the last of the bandages away from my shoulders. The wounds had closed as ugly and large circular scars underneath my clavicles. Each one was the size of my thumbnail. The surface was uneven, red and angry. Most of it was scabbed over. The skin surrounding where the rods had pushed through me was torn, creating radiating lines from the center. My fingers prodded the area. Some part of my mind wanted to rip off the scab like that’d remove the scar forming underneath as well. 

The scars on my tattoo had already settled. Most of them were small but three, large white strips trailed from my inner wrist, curled around my forearm and ended just above my elbow. The Attor had marked me as well. Not only marked me but shredded the beautiful tattoo underneath. The interlocking designs now a jumbled, nonsensical heap. 

My fingers went to my ears. They traced my stiff earlobe, feeling the cartilage and curvature. How it ended in a rough patch of skin, rounded. I swallowed. My ears were no longer tipped. The more I searched, the more I found parts missing. 

My hand dipped beneath the water. The slits on my abdomen had been healed for a longer time. The scars fully formed. I’d saved on my magic when Dagdan stabbed me. My body should have healed whatever damage had been done but I lacked the confidence to confirm it. If it wasn’t the case…

I gasped tightly, wrapping my arms around my chest. It wasn’t the wounds. It was the knowledge I’d been robbed, that I’d have to admit this. To my family, to my mate. I didn’t want to face them. The idea of reunion plagued me now because I wouldn’t return victorious, stronger than before. I’d return scared and wounded.  _ Ruined _ , I whispered to myself. I closed my eyes. The pity and horror in their eyes would be worst of all. I might have escaped but not before Hybern could taint my future. It would never be as before. I’d always be this victim. 

Opening myself up to my mate seemed impossible, to my entire family would kill me. I was supposed to be strong. 

I commited to scrubbing my skin till I’d taken off the layer the heat didn’t, until I’d unearthed all the scars I’d buried. My hair was a tangled mess that I drenched with the painful knowledge I’d either require help or have to cut it off. There wasn’t a soul in this place I’d ask for help. I was close to crying when I heard the approaching footsteps. 

To my surprise, Jurian turned the corner. His dark eyes located me with ease, picking me out through the mist even though I was set further back. My confusion must have shown. I hoped my red eyes and heated cheeks could be written off as products of the heat.  _ You don’t care what he thinks _ , I scolded. 

“I thought you were sedated,” I called out, voice echoing loudly off the walls till I cringed at how defensive it sounded. 

He laughed mirthlessly. His frown pulled at all his features. His eyes, if they weren’t wild, always downtrodden. “When you spend centuries always awake, never sleeping, things like sedatives and sleep don’t have the same impact they used to,” he answered. He stopped a pool away from me. “I figured once the palace was asleep I’d find you in your rooms but apparently, you also took advantage of their absence.”

“Why were you looking for me?” I glared. 

He pursed his lips. “Need a reason? I was bored and you’re the least likely to kill me.” 

“You’re wrong about that.”

“We both know you would have killed me already if you wanted to,” he sighed, closing the distance till he stood at the edge of my pool. He also wore the loose clothing they gifted him, bleak trousers and a tunic with a tie at the neck. He didn’t fill his out at all. “And between you, me and Tamlin, we’re the last to survive Amarantha’s focused rage. I figured that counts for something.” 

I furrowed my brows. There was no kinship with Jurian but the honest way he spoke made me think he thought differently. “Rhysand too,” I sunk into the water till my lips almost fell beneath as well. 

“No, Feyre,” Jurian shook his head. He rolled up his pants legs and sat at the edge, sinking them into the water. “No, he was not. Amarantha used Rhysand but she didn’t care for him,” I blocked out the thoughts that wanted to pick apart his words. I bit my tongue until I drew blood. He stuck his finger into the water and drew lazy eights on the surface, following the ripples. There was a time I’d done the same with my magic and had traced Rhysand’s name out to his immense satisfaction.  _ Parlour tricks _ , I breathed tiredly. “But she hated you, definitely hated me and claimed to love Tamlin but her love was very similar to her hate.” 

I nodded begrudgingly. “So you think we’re friends?” 

Jurian looked up. His face was blank. Only his eyes moved, taking in the set of my jaw and stubborn glare in my eyes. He sighed. “No.” But he stayed put, fingers playing with the water. I watched him for a moment but when he didn’t speak, I returned to threading my fingers through my hair. Between us, it was so quiet I could hear the drops of water from the ceiling into the springs. 

Quiet must not have suited Jurian’s intentions for seeking out my company. “So how many Court’s magics have you picked up on?” he asked. I stiffened. “You broke the wards in your cell and the ward to get us on the island. I take it you tried with the others.” 

“Most of them,” I answered though I didn’t owe it to him. 

“And you can’t winnow?” 

I whipped around, glaring at him. “Exactly what can you do?”

“Winnow,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Winnow and not a damn thing else.” 

“Not very far.” 

“No, not far at all,” he agreed. “It’s a pity.” 

“Not as much as having all this magic and not being able to winnow,” I offered. 

“Winnowing doesn’t mean much when you can turn into a bird and fly away,” he shrugged. I stilled. I’d never thought of doing that. Of course, I never touched my Spring Court magic. “So why didn’t you?” 

“Huh?” 

“That night. You could have left Tamlin and I but you didn’t. Flown back to shore. Been with your mate and with two less problems on your hands.”

I swallowed. “I couldn’t.” He was about to reply but I shook my head. “I didn’t...I never learned my Spring Court magic.” If I’d had any wits, I never would have let my past with Tamlin weaken me. But Tamlin was a crack in my armor that only grew bigger. 

Jurian raised his brows at me. “You passed up the chance to fly with your half-Illyrian mate?” I recoiled, fury welling up inside. “Don’t look at me like that. Rhysand’s mother was an Illyrian.” 

“Fuck off,” I bit out. My cheeks grew darker anyway. 

He laughed. “I’m sure Cassian taught you that one.” I looked away. That was another name that left a twinge in me. I was unsure now how I felt about them. Half of me was full of intense longing to see my family and the rest wanted to hide where they could never find me. See what had become of me, what I’d let happen. “It’s not like you can’t learn now,” he sobered. 

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” I admitted. I’d started my training with Rhysand. I wanted to grow powerful but the delight and pride in his eyes pushed me to go further, to get stronger. 

“It’s a shame there is no one here that knows Spring Court magic,” Jurian said loftily. My mouth gaped. A thousand shouts rose to my tongue. I wanted to curse Jurian out. Tamlin had betrayed me and I’d let myself forget that Jurian was just as responsible. He’d shot me through my thigh that night in Adriata. He scoffed at my insult, rising from the water. “Oh Feyre. You’re so straightforward. You can still hate the male at the end of the day but don’t leave a gaping hole in your armor because you’re too stubborn to change.” 


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I resent the idea that Elain can't be soft and strong and I'm going to fight the person who tells me otherwise!
> 
> Swan Lake - Tchaikovsky
> 
> accidentally posted this to Renew Pt I because I can't be trusted late at night oop

**Elain:**

The trouble with not being able to tell Lucien what I saw was I couldn’t explain my decisions to him. I had to look my mate in the eye, make the oddest of requests and pray he understood. He’d told me countless times he understood. He repeated it almost daily. Each time we winnowed to an odd location or I had a new stack of letters for him to deliver, I’d watch his reaction carefully. He’d feel my nerves through the bond and smile until I couldn’t help but return it. I could feel his mirth; he was being truthful. He understood. 

Until today. 

Out in the Spring Court, Lucien could not understand why I needed to be present. He still winnowed me out into the enemy territory but the moment I moved away from him, his hand shot out. He held my arm, not tightly, but enough to stay my departure. My heart raced. His ears flicked to focus on the pounding. 

I did not want to leave his side but I rushed to get it over with. I didn’t feel safe when I wasn’t next to him. Lucien was like a buffer between me and the rest of the world. I knew Feyre would offer to teach me self defense or Nesta would melt those that hurt me but I didn’t want either of those to happen. This was now how I imagined my life going. I thought I’d marry Graysen and focus on children, gardening and living as quietly and happily as I could. I never once thought I’d be trapezing across the country with my mate in tow, trying to piece together a plan to keep my family alive. 

“Elain, where are you going?” he asked, voice whispered and breath held. He’d donned his armor on top of his Day Cout garb when I told him where we’d be moving. He’d even braided the majority of his hair back, only a few long strands falling out of place to catch the sunlight. His eyes watched me with worry creasing the space between his brows. “You can’t move too far, this place isn’t safe.” 

“I’m well aware of that,” I frowned. He couldn’t have thought me that detached. 

His lips broke into a small smile. “Yes, I guess you are,” he acquiesced with a guilty shrug of his shoulders. “But where are you heading off to? I’ll go ahead, just stay close behind me—”

“No, Lucien,” I shook my head and he closed his mouth with an audible _click_ . His eyes still filled with worry. I saw the struggle in them, felt it inside of him. _What to do?_ I bit my lip and then added, “I don’t think it would be good for you to be seen.” 

He licked his lips, considering my words. “You want me to…” 

“Wait for me here,” I finished. 

“Elain, absolutely _not_ ,” he shook his head vehemently. His right hand had never left the pommel of his sword and even though I was just a pace away, sweat dotted my brows from the heat radiating off him. His preparedness in case we were attacked was a testament to how dangerous our precise location was. 

It was enemy territory after all. It was a real shame as even with Hybern’s troops occupying the land, most of it remained stubbornly fertile. Blooms I’d never imagined into existence surrounded me and I had to ignore them in favor of a much less enjoyable task. I peeled my eyes reluctantly from a speckled rose and back to my mate.   
“Lucien,” I sighed. 

“Elain, we are near three troops on my count a few leagues south. There are likely more, hidden even from me.” 

“That’s not true. Your magic should make their wards rather obvious.” 

“Elain,” he warned, pursing his lips. I flashed a pleased smile. I made a valid point but he didn’t want to be wrong right now. “The point _is_ that you could be surprised. I might not reach you in time. I won’t risk you. We shall find another way. I can feel your fear, Elain so please don’t make me stay away.” 

How could I explain that if I didn’t move now, there’d be four more graves tomorrow? Five after a week. How could I explain the gravity of what would happen as the sun grew closer to the horizon? I searched for another way but there wasn’t one. I needed to handle this myself as obviously the last few attempts hadn’t worked. Lucien’s presence would hurt my cause as much as I hated stepping away from him. 

I didn’t _want_ to leave his side. The forest hid the same soldiers that held us captive months ago. I was terrified. Lucien could smell my fear, practically taste it from how my heart raced and he couldn’t understand why I still insisted on going. When his hand left my arm, I almost wished my mate had dragged me off back home. _But of course he respects your decision_ , I told myself mockingly for thinking he’d ever do otherwise. It would have been too easy if I could have called it a day and returned home with him. 

“Lucien,” I gulped. The sun was setting. I needed to move. 

“I can’t let you endanger yourself so blatantly,” he said firmly though his cheeks were tight and neck strained. His leather stretched audibly as he stiffened, awaiting my response. 

“I need to do this,” I replied, hating how his shoulders sank. “You can follow behind me but you cannot hear what I say. I need you to put up a sound barrier around me, large enough for a few paces.” 

“What if you need my help? I won’t hear your call.” 

“You’ll feel my panic.” 

“You’re very panicked right now, love,” he winced. 

“It’ll get worse then,” I nodded with more confidence than I felt, wincing from what would happen if it did get worse. I doubted even Lucien would be so fast as to take me out of harm's way. If there was any reason in this world, my plan would work. 

Lucien appeared to be splitting into two. I smelled the need in him, the rise of his instincts that couldn’t handle willingly accepting the danger I put myself in. Each of his conflicts rolled into one another as he tried to solve the circular problem with no real solution. When he came up empty, he tugged me close to him. His hand clasped mine firmly, near shaking, but not harshly. “I won’t be more than fifteen paces. If I feel so much as a twinge of pain, I’m dropping all pretenses.” 

“Lucien. You know I’m already scared as it is.” 

He pushed back a stray curl of hair, eyes memorizing my features. “But you’re too brave for your own good, you and your sisters. And I won’t risk losing you.” He kissed my forehead. my eyes fluttered closed as he neared me. I breathed in his relaxing scent, the spices more prominent than the sweeter fruit. “And when we return to the Day Court, I’ll craft you armor. A full suit.”

A smile flickered on my lips. “I don’t intend to leave your side often,” I shook my head. 

He returned my happiness though we both felt just as unsteady. I left his arms on shaky feet and wobbly knees. This was either genius or the worst idea conceivable but unfortunately, my target was prone to making rash and rather stupid decisions. _Look who's talking,_ I chided to keep my fear tamed. I wrung my wrists as I walked.

I felt my mate’s magic flicker that I assumed to be the sound barrier. The further I walked, the worse the feeling of eyes on my neck got. My hair prickled on my arms. Lucien would extend all his other senses to protect me and apparently, the mating bond was one. My abdominal muscles grew increasingly tight like the tether between us was going taut. 

I found the object of my visions leaning against a tree. Eris was, for someone so pale, very difficult to tell apart from the foliage. He wore the brown pants and leather boots like all his court but his armor was dark steel, somehow made to glean crimson in the sun. Immediately, I saw the differences between Lucien and him. They were impossible to ignore though I resented the comparison. Eris was lean and tall. A straight, high bridged nose and shrewd features that gave him an angularity that Lucien wholly lacked. His scent was indiscernible to my nose at the moment, familiar but I couldn’t quite recall where I’d smelled it before. Thankfully, it wasn’t wholly unpleasant as I doubt Eris would listen if my nose remained scrunched up. 

Eris peered through the trees and I knew that just beyond his sight, High Lord Beron stood with Jules. Lucien’s sound barrier ended up helping me. Eris didn’t hear me until I was already upon him. He spun quickly, flames enveloping his hands though he didn’t attack me as I predicted. He couldn’t risk discovery, hiding in the woods beyond the treeline. If Beron knew what his son was up to then Jules would certainly become the next heir to the Autumn Court. It would only be a question of which one killed Eris first, father or brother. 

I wanted to pity the male but found I couldn’t. There was something I resented about his commitment to being a mean person on purpose. Unforgivable came to mind though there were others who’d disagree. 

Confusion crossed his face while he tried to place me. Seeming to forget I was watching him all the same, he tensed. “Who are you?” he hissed. He might have read all my letters, a considerable amount of them, but the male would never have known the face that penned them. Here I’d hoped we could skip this part. The part where I attempted to convince him that listening to me _was_ in his best interests. And a few others. 

“You read all my letters and threw them away. Did you really think I’d stop there?” my voice was level. I’d even succeeded in keeping my heart rather calm, even if Eris was burning a fire so hot it would melt stone. Nearby foliage withered. 

Realization crossed his face before he straightened, assessing me. His lips pursed tightly. He took me in with a single once-over with obvious disinterest. He might be the only fae alive who didn’t care who I was. I’d find that a relief if I didn’t already hate him too. “Where’s Lucien?” He glanced around us. I hoped Lucien hadn’t yet figured out who I talked to. “This is rather stupid even for him. At least he _tried_ to keep his other female safe from father.” 

“I’m not the one whose life is in danger,” I struggled to keep myself calm. Eris’s insults struck a chord. Jesminda didn’t deserve that disregard. 

“You do not know what you talk about, Seer or no,” his voice was lethally calm. Each word carefully said so I couldn’t possibly mishear. He lifted his chin, staring down his nose at me. He and Lucien could have been the same height but Eris, sinewy and lanky, looked to be towering at the moment. Of course, I was especially small for a fae. “I have read your shit riddles and hints. I have thought it all through. Your visions are wrong and I have decided my fate for myself.” 

I raised a brow that twitched with ire. “Then you’ve decided on death?” he looked back at me, narrowing his eyes. “You think after what you have planned, it will go according to how you imagine it but you have overestimated yourself,” I had practiced what I’d say since I’d seen the damning vision myself. “You think after what you have endured, you’ll be strong enough to handle the transfer of power.” 

“I am.” he ground out. Maybe in terms of how much abuse one could take, Eris scored particularly high; however, that had only hardened him into a lump of coal. I doubt he saw himself from where I stood. Soon enough, he’d turn into that which he tried to kill. 

As much as he insulted Lucien, as he would insult me, I forced all emotion out of my face and voice. I felt nothing. I spoke only the truth of what I’d seen in store for the male. “Not on this account.” 

“What did you see?” he demanded. He kept glancing back between me and his family. If I kept feeding his doubt, he’d lose his chance and he knew it. 

“A very rash plan going awry.” Eris would attempt to murder his father and brother. He’d only succeed in killing one. As the title and magic passed to him, he’d be unable to defend himself. Jules would kill him instantly, despite the massive burns he suffered. He’d kill the other two brothers to ensure his ascension to the throne. He wouldn’t touch his own mother but even Lady Juliette had a breaking point and it happened when she lost hope for her sons. None of this could come to pass because Eris was needed. Not the Eris he was now but the better one. The one I hoped, as his mother desperately did as well, he’d become given some encouragement. He’d never be redeemable in my eyes but I told myself I didn’t need to forgive him. 

“I knew it,” he smiled triumphantly. The fires held in his hands flicked out while he _tsked_. “You do not know anything. Now scurry back to my quivering brother. Go tell him your ridiculous riddles.” 

“That future you want ends the moment you act,” I said finally. It was as close as I could get. He’d have to decide on what I specifically thought of. As it turned out, Eris had many dreams and many plans after his father died. It was tragic he could want something so pure and not see how unattainable it was when his hands were so black already. “It crumbles and dies and it doesn’t take long.” 

He stopped, body tense. “And why should you care? For all I know, you are here as revenge on Lucien’s behalf.” 

“Now look who doesn’t understand anything,” I quipped. “You’re willing to risk your own life, your own future but I know you will not risk those around you. So leave this place and don’t let me see you acting as ridiculous as you are now.” I’d never spoken as harshly as I did then but my gut clenched tightly, reminding me of who _I’d_ lose if Eris didn’t survive. 

I didn’t know if he’d take the bait. I didn’t know what type of male Eris really was. But I saw the future Eris wanted and that made me believe the words I said. Eris wanted something better and I had to believe he’d be willing to act better to attain it. It was a heavy risk on faith, even for me. As I saw it, I stood to lose a great deal more in Eris’s death and Eris did himself. 

How this male, irrelevant up until a few weeks ago, had become so critical was beyond me. _The enemies of our past have a way of haunting our futures_ , I sighed. This was the issue with being so long-lived. All our decisions, small and large alike, eventually shape our lives in a significant way. I hoped that with these small nudges, I could shape Eris’s life as well and the rest of ours as a result. 

Eris’s eyes burned red the longer he stood. He took ragged breaths that blew steam from his nose and mouth. He clenched and unclenched his fists, shifting on his feet. “If you’re wrong, you’ll never be safe from me.” 

I swallowed and lifted my chin in resolute acceptance. I could allow his idle threats. Lucien might be fifteen paces behind but even that wasn’t enough to keep him from me. Our eyes met for a final, hard stare that only pushed me to dig my feet in even more. When he winnowed away, I sighed in the grace of his absence. Hate like that choked the air and I only had so many weeks to change that.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently another book (ACOSF) came out and I need one of you guys to tell me if I should dare and read it. I mean, lets be honest, with what time would I read this book? But some of ya'll, reading this entire fic in <24 hours give me hope. 
> 
> also huge thanks to QueenAmydien for pointing out to me that I mistakenly updated Renew Pt 1 with Chapter 34. Don't underestimate how blind I am without you guys :)

**Feyre:**

I expected when I found Tamlin for him to launch at the opportunity to ridicule me. I prepared for it till my jaw hurt from clenching. I expected many reactions. Flat out refusals chief among them and the worst being the reminder that I was a hypocrite. Telling him he's worthless and deserves to die before demanding he help me is as conflicting a person can act.

I waited a full day to approach him. Admittedly, I was waiting for my magic to return with the hopes I could avoid this altogether. My magic took its time. My body was healing and my magic even slower. I'd never fully exhausted my magic before. The healers told me it was quite normal for a young fae to do it a couple of times before they knew better. I didn't confirm I was younger than they thought or imagined. They poked and prodded but I kept tight lipped. The less they knew, the safer I was.

When I found Tamlin, he was sitting alone in his room. He stared out the window. Another day of healing and he didn't look any better. His hair was still lopsided, a blunt section cut out so part fell below his chin, the other to his shoulder. It’d lost its sheen and had yellowed out.  There was a time when these details would have made me want to reach out and hold him. Though I looked, I couldn’t find anything inside myself besides the anger and the hurt. I couldn’t consolidate the Tamlin I once knew and the male that betrayed me. It took him purposefully ripping me away from my life and happiness to finally understand. Whether or not it was Amarantha that broke him or he was always this way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was he became that selfish, conniving person. 

The very same bastard I was about to ask to help me. 

I squared my sore shoulders before opening my mouth. I clutched Rhysand’s earrings in my left hand. “You’re going to teach me how to use my Spring Court magic.” He stilled.  _ I surprised the High Lord _ , I thought arrogantly. A pleased smile appeared just for a moment. Training with Azriel had made me lighter on my feet than I thought, even when injured. He turned his face, ears pointed towards me to show he listened. “You’re going to teach me until I’m satisfied and that will be the end.” 

He considered before dipping his chin, agreeing. “Do you plan on revealing your magic then, Feyre?” his voice was devoid of emotion, rough like scraping the bottom of a barrel. 

“That’s none of your concern,” I shot back. 

“No,” he agreed, turning from the window. “It isn’t.” 

**Nesta:**

“Would you do it again?” Amren asked. 

We’d forgone her apartment to have a more private conversation in the library. I brought the Book of Breathings and held it tightly to my chest. Amren’s eyes, though smoky and difficult to track, kept returning to the Book. I stored this information for later. 

“No,” I replied. I’d woken during the night with the worst sensation of falling. I couldn’t stay in bed, even with Cassian holding me at his side. He woke immediately upon my rising and followed me to the porch, overlooking a sleeping Velaris. We’d watched the sky lighten together in silence. I couldn’t pin down the source of my skittish heart or my twitching hands but Cassian could. He hadn’t seemed surprised either. 

“ _ He deserved it _ ,”  _ I hissed as I stared at my hands. They kept shaking and I couldn’t get them to stop. “He deserved it and I’d do it again if I had to.”  _

_ “He did,” Cassian nodded sagely. The vivacity and humor in his eyes simmered into wisdom. He was perfectly still at my side except for the hand that rubbed small circles into the small of my back. His wings expanded to shield us from the buffering wind. I didn’t feel cold though. “If you hadn’t, we’d likely never have seen you again. The war would be over. Hybern would have killed us all.” I wanted to defend myself. To say with my magic, I should never have to fear captivity again and that was partially true; however, I’d never trained my magic for combat and I never would. I believed once I welcomed the violence into my life, it would refuse to leave me. I’d always be caught in a cycle of bloodshed.  _

_ The blood had found me anyway just as Dagdan had.  _

_ “But even though your mind and heart know what you did was right, your body hasn’t caught up yet, Nes,” he provided. Could that have been it? My body didn’t know what to do? How pathetic of it. I swallowed hard, looking at Cassian for clarification. He read the question in my eyes. “I threw up after I saw my first battle.”  _

_ “But they deserved it. Dagdan deserved to die.” I wasn’t lying to myself. The male needed to die. Even if not for what he did to me, for what he did to my sister. For the thousands before her who would remain nameless victims to Dagdan and his twin. “I’d have killed Brannagh if Feyre hadn’t beaten me to it.” If Brannagh had been there, it was likely the day would have gone entirely different but my words remained true. There was no question as to the choice I had been faced with and so my body’s response was completely unnecessary.  _

_ Cassian’s eyes flickered with understanding and he frowned. “Feyre killed Brannagh?” he questioned, hand reaching to still mine. I nodded cautiously. “Can I tell this to Rhys in the morning?” Another nod. “Az and Rhys have been hunting through the tunnels for Brannagh since. They thought she might have been hiding somewhere inside and didn’t want to chance her escape.”  _

_ I hadn’t known. Of course, it’d only been a few days. _

_ “Nes,” Cassian sighed, pushing away a hair that the wind blew into my face. “I never meant for you to face that again. Captivity.” I watched him,  _ my mate,  _ worriedly. His voice was aggrieved. He barely seemed to notice the sleep we weren’t getting. His mind must never have left these thoughts. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” As horrible as it may sound, I wished Cassian had been there. I never wanted to kill another even if they deserved it. I never wanted this sensation crawling on my skin. I never asked for it.  _

_ My eyes stung and I bowed my head away, unable to maintain eye contact. Cassian enveloped me in his arms while I shook. The tremors in my body like echoes of the trauma, finally shaking me even though days had passed. I squeezed my eyes shut but the tears still came.  _

“Then you have changed your mind?” Amren asked, leaning on her hand. Her eyes went back to the Book. I didn’t answer her but my silence was enough. She heard what wouldn’t be said. I couldn’t face the blood and maybe that made me awful for allowing everyone else to fight in my place. I’d allowed Feyre to fight for our survival. Even my mate, watching him risk himself for the safety of us all. Everyone around me knew how to give and  _ give _ until there was nothing of their souls left. By what right did I get to keep my own? “You knew this involved sacrifice.” 

“I never said I wouldn’t,” I cut in. 

Amren’s brows furrowed. 

I cleared my throat. “I cannot live with the outcome.” 

“That is sacrifice,” she shook her head, hair swishing around her. 

“But you can,” I continued, ignoring her dismissal. She looked back up at me with confusion written in those smoky pools. Confusion and interest. “We’re all vessels for magic and you have said it before, you’ve held more than most.” 

Her red lips pursed. “The Cauldron chose you, Nesta. Have you learned truly nothing from me?” She hissed impatiently. I must have struck the chords of hope inside her as she didn’t continue on, her eyes returning to the Book. 

I laid the Book flat on the table. It was heavy and the sound of it thudding echoed in the empty halls. She watched each of my movements. Her hands held the edge of the table, chin lifting to better view the Book. I flipped to a page and turned it for her to read for herself. “And I chose what will become of my magic and where it shall go.” 

Amren leaned forward and read the page, almost trembling herself. When she reached the lines I’d also paused at, she froze. Her eyes slowly lifted from the page. They flashed silver and white. The smoke gave way to something brighter inside her, something raw and blinding. The smile curling from her lips was both unsettling and a relief. 

**Lucien:**

“I don’t want it,” Elain shook her head. 

“Elain,” I sighed, pressing my hand to my face. The Archeron bravery came as a pair with their unique brand of stubbornness. Even though this conversation dragged on, an easy smile came to my lips as I looked at my mate. Her hands were buried in soil. She’d stained her white Day Court dress till it was brown and she’d smudged her cheeks too. The soft scent of her sweat, salty on top of her honeysuckle, colored the air. In the setting sun, the golden flakes painted on her shoulders and neck made her shimmer spectacularly. She’d covered the different body arts practiced in the Courts today and had been offered the chance to wear a Day Court favorite. It was a rare day I got to spend entirely in the Day Court, learning alongside my mate. 

As much as I wanted my mate to agree, I felt in no hurry for her to do so. I was at my most relaxed state with her at my side. I could debate her all day. 

“Your abilities require you to traipse through dangerous situations, ones you expect me to stay behind on,” I repeated. My relief that Elain was safe the other day was in direct conflict with the panic of scenting Eris in the air. If my brother was that critical then the least I would do to protect my mate was ensure she had something at her disposal to protect herself with.

“And you won’t be far away,” she nodded definitively, eyes squinting at a variegated hosta that was leaning too far to the left. 

“What if I was too far to reach you?” I hated to admit it but I couldn’t let my pride get in the way of Elain’s safety. When she was in the Day Court, I trusted she was safe within and away from my sight. Anywhere else and a moment of distraction could destroy this peace I found with her. 

She looked at me and smiled. “It is a good thing you have some fire to cross the distance, no?” 

I grinned back. Her wit amused and surprised me endlessly. “I want you to be safe.” 

“And I will be with you.” 

“And I want you to be safe even away from me,” I nodded back towards the small knife I procured for her. It was no longer than my middle finger, thin as a needle but strong as my longsword, courtesy of the Dawn Court’s experiments with surgical instruments. I’d teach her how to use it, of course. If she didn’t want me to teach her, I’d ask if Azriel or Cassian would. She would be Lady of the Day Court which would make her the first there’s been in centuries. The Court’s history of polygamy made the role of Lady unapplicable. Given that I was already her mate and she was a Seer, I didn’t think this new role would make her any safer. I’d been remiss to have neglected her safety. I needed to correct that immediately. 

She blew out a breath, pulling her hands from the dirt to come and sit on my lap. She smelled now of fresh soil and moss. A golden flake fell from her neck to rest on her exposed collarbone. “I don’t think I am capable of that,” she confided in me. Her round eyes searching mine out for understanding. 

“Elain, you do not have to murder a person,” I said and preceded to wince at how harsh it was.  _ No,  _ murdering was usually the least effective tool. Severely maiming came to mind instead. I never wanted her to have to kill another; I wanted to personally see to anyone who came after my mate. 

“I do not think I am capable of that violence,” her hair swayed while she shook her head, freeing more gold flakes into the breeze around us. “I wouldn’t use it.” 

I reached for her hand, opening it with my thumb. I pressed the knife into her hand and willed her to accept it. “Then carry it for me. Never use it but just keep it on you. I’d sleep better knowing you had it.” 

“You’d sleep better knowing your mate slept with a  _ knife  _ in bed with you?” she retorted, a playful smile on her lush lips. I nodded, leaning forward to kiss her. We smiled against one another, both our eyes enlivened with laughter. “You’ve a strange notion of romance.” She set the knife down beside us. Her freed hand came to cup my jaw. The sway my mate held over me ensured I could only nod numbly, leaning into her touch even as she brushed dirt over my skin as well. 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who must not have pressed 'post' and didn't update on time. it was me. you're chronically inept author trying their best. 
> 
> :)

**Feyre:**

Sweat beaded from my brow. My magic hadn’t returned yet but I’d dedicated my spare time to regaining the rest of my strength. I picked a patch of grass on the side of the mountain, far from wandering eyes, and trained myself there in solitude. I waited till the night to go train when I was even less likely to be interrupted. Jurian, however, had an uncanny ability for finding me no matter where I set my position. He said I had a scent that was hard to miss given nothing on the island smelled like me. I thought that was a smooth way of saying he wandered about until he could smell me and had spent most of his time looking for me aimlessly.

After him, Tamlin would show up but without my magic, there was no training to be completed. Tonight was the first that I didn’t feel like an empty vessel; I was determined not to squander it. I warmed up in my usual fashion of stretching and then working the different muscles. I tried not to wince as I pressed into the ground for another push up. My shoulders didn’t feel quite the same. After the rods had been jammed through, I’d become eerily aware of how detachable my limbs were. 

“You’re perky,” Jurian chuckled, stepping into the clearing with Tamlin in tow. I acquired the loose fitting pants and vest-like tunic as they had but I also wore a heavy wrap around my shoulders when I wasn’t in training. My healer had gifted it to me to keep me warm. It wrapped around my shoulders and clasped at my right with a silver fitting. It was blue wool, striated with hints of grey. I took to wearing it since it was long enough to cover my shoulders and my left arm. It sat folded neatly off to the side while I warmed up. 

“My magic is returning,” I replied, rising off the ground. I counted the days. One of them, my magic would return and I’d be finally reunited with my mate. Before I’d seen myself I was anxious to get off this island. I wanted to be safe in Velaris, surrounded by my family and rejoice that this nightmare was over. Now, I didn’t know what to want. I didn’t feel like I should have escaped. Or...it didn’t feel like a victory, like some part of me remained in those cells. Now that I felt a flicker of it coming to life inside me, my nerves frayed at the decisions I’d be faced with in the near future. 

Jurian called me  _ Cursebreaker  _ in a mocking way but that was also a relief. Someone could finally see the joke. I wasn’t a Cursebreaker or even a Lady of the Night Court. I was a lucky fae who should have met the dawn ages ago. I dreaded the moment Rhysand would see this for himself. When my family would as well. 

The only people who could exceed myself in self-loathing were Jurian and Tamlin. With Tamlin, it was how he stayed in isolation to his rooms. I met him there twice for training but my magic strained both times and I left quickly, trying to bury all my fears. Jurian’s self-loathing was reflected in every joke he made at his own expense. I didn’t try to change their minds. They should hate themselves. 

Though I was comfortable in Jurian’s presence and Tamlin never spoke enough to truly aggravate me. In this way, I didn’t have to explain things to them and I liked that. I hated them both and they agreed with my sentiment. They didn’t question it and they certainly never brought up Hybern. None of us mentioned it like it never happened, it just became a part of our past. 

“Have you decided what you’d want to shift into?” Tamlin asked, coming to stand before me. There was no more awkwardness between us. Anyone looking on would only see the hate and tiredness. We faced each other with equally blank expressions and interacted as minimally as possible. 

“A bird,” I answered, wiggling my toes in the grass. Going so long without shoes had made me enjoy going barefoot. I felt more grounded during my training so I’d slip off the shoes I was given. They were dainty leather shoes that ended below my ankle, something I’d have worn in Velaris rather than in training. But I didn’t want to ask for boots when I would have had to admit I was training. My secrecy wasn’t purposeful. I just didn’t wish to share anything more about myself than I had to. 

Jurian scoffed. “A bird,” he muttered, ripping grass up and watching it float off his hand in the night breeze. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky above us. It left a beautifully clear view of the stars that I struggled not to look too closely at. 

Tamlin nodded thoughtfully. He’d finally cut his hair back but it was done in a choppy, messy fashion that bespoke of an impatient lapse of reason with a knife. Of course, it only made him look more feral beast than fae male. His magic had returned a longtime ago but with no home to return to, he stayed put. Without a home, a throne or people, he had no reason to ever leave the island. Though I knew once I left for Prythian, he would come with me to answer for his crimes. He didn’t have the same pride as before. He knew who I was now and how that made him the villain in every story. 

He sat down, cross-legged in the grass for the first routine breathing exercises we’d do. Surrounded by the dense woods, his green eyes almost regained a glimmer of their original vibrancy. “Then let us begin.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My magic exhausted quickly. A flicker of it underneath my skin and I was sweating profusely and near panting. My hair stuck to my face. I’d thought of braiding it back but the motion was too familiar. I left it long and down. “How anticlimactic,” Jurian sighed, laying on his back and tracing constellations with his fingers. 

Tamlin glared at Jurian. The two did not get along. We all didn’t but I was on speaking terms with both of them. “You’ve barely enough magic yourself to qualify as a magic-bearer.” Tamlin had succeeded in shifting from wolf to hawk to rabbit with great flourish. His wounded arm carried through to each shift he made. Jurian hadn’t even glanced to see the transitions as they came but I’d watched, wondering if he could fix his own arm. If he could shift, he likely could but insisted on keeping his left arm impaired.

Jurian scoffed. “I never asked to be fae.” Jurian and I had both been humans. It was easy to forget what it had been like before, when my hands couldn’t shoot flames or my mind was able to paint illusions for others to get lost in. “And I suppose this concludes another night of training. Until Feyre gets her ward-shattering magic back, we’re fucked on this stupid island. We shouldn’t waste her magic on this shapeshifting shit anyway. If she can get us back over the wards, then you can carry us all home  _ High Lord _ .” 

“You suggested it,” I glared. For a moment, I thought I saw my skin shimmer but it faded and slipped through my fingers. 

“And it was a stupid idea. Tamlin might winnow us back to Hybern’s awaiting arms,” Jurian glared. Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the night. Both Jurian and I shot up, watching him warily. Jurian shook his head with a wild smile. His grin was nothing like Cassian’s. Cassian’s had the confidence of someone who knew the fight they begged for, they’d win. Jurian’s was of someone who didn’t care about the outcome. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.” 

Tamlin’s lips curled. “I’d rather not be tortured for the remainder of my days.” 

“I’d rather not either but I didn’t exactly get a choice,” I bit out. His eyes shot to mine with an intensity burning deep inside them. It was when they traveled to my rounded ears did he straighten. I ground my teeth. I would never be done with the judgement of others. I hadn’t put Rhysand’s earrings back in because I couldn’t coincide my title with my reality. I was a mutilated High Lady, even if it was only superficial on my ears, but I was still beaten and undeserving. 

“For the likes of you there is no difference between dying on Hybern’s desolate island or sentenced to beheading by fucking Rhysand and the rest of those bastards,” Jurian barked. 

“You  _ worked  _ for Hybern before I ever came along.” 

“I had no choice until Feyre came along. Before that I was a fucking ornament on Amarantha’s ring and before that, these fucks  _ abandoned  _ me to her torture.” He waved an arm towards the island. “What’s your excuse?” Jurian’s finger shot out accusingly at Tamlin. He spoke so quickly, he spit and it might as well have been venom. “You were the one who sent Hybern a letter. You went to your knees first, traitor.” 

Even knowing what Tamlin had done made it no less easier to hear the retellings of it. What happiness had I been inundated with while Tamlin made an alliance with the King of Hybern? Was it the night my family ate together? When my still-human sisters were my main concern? My eyes slid to Tamlin as I waited for him to admit to it. It could have been a million of the nights I spent wrapped in Rhysand’s arms, playing with my magic and whispering to each other until the dawn came. I wiped furiously at my eyes. 

“And I’ve learned my lesson,” Tamlin swallowed. All of our voices were hoarse. I didn’t look up to meet his eyes. 

“Have you?” Jurian asked. 

“I have,” Tamlin confessed. “What can I do?” 

It was a good question. Death wasn’t an option. I didn’t want to be High Lady of the Spring Court. He needed to face the judgement of the High Lords. But even beyond that, when he was far from my sight, I needed to know he would never act against me again. I had no guarantee of that. My hand pressed to my lower abdomen. His actions had taken so much and I had no way of keeping him from doing it again. I had no punishment severe enough. 

Jurian followed my movements with worried eyes, his skin paled till it tinged green. Tamlin only glanced between us with confusion. “You’ll go back to being a High Lord like nothing happened,” Jurian shook his head. “After all you’ve done.” 

“No,” I shook my head as the word came out like a prayer. This couldn’t be how things end for us. If I did anything right, it would be to ensure that he couldn’t do this again. I’d protect my people, my family even if I couldn’t protect myself. “You can’t regain your seat after you’ve abused it.” 

Tamlin furrowed his brows. “Then shall you take my head?” 

I clenched my fists. “I have no interest in your head. I need to know you’ll never act against me.” He nodded, about to open his mouth but I quieted him with a glare. Though exhausted, my magic stirred inside me with the rising tide of my emotions. “For the rest of your life you’ll never strike against me, my family, my  _ mate _ or my Court,” Tamlin and his father had been responsible for Rhysand’s mother and sister’s death. Tamlin could not regain his title unchecked; this had to end. Tamlin nodded, eyes dark pools without a glimpse of green in them. It wasn’t nearly enough. “You’ll regain your lands and your people but the decisions will fall to me. You’ll be High Lord in title only.” 

His mouth fell open but he didn’t speak. A slightly strangled noise escaped as he bowed his head. I watched the tensing of his skin as he attempted to swallow what I demanded. Jurian and I waited, both of us taking in every detail of the male we didn’t truly know. He shut his eyes and nodded, accepting my terms. 

“I want to hear you say it,” I barked, fists clenching at my side. “Say you’ll never act against me, my family—”

“I’ll never act against you, your family, your mate or your Court,” he spoke up, lifting his head. His eyes were vibrant again as magic stirred. My own pulsed, feeling the tentative connection between us. His Spring Court magic inside me finally making its presence known in response to him. He sucked in a breath as he undoubtedly felt the same tug. Though a cold sweat rose from my skin when exhaustion threatened to overwhelm, I demanded more of my magic like I was taking it back from his claws. He stiffened but continued to speak, voice belabored, “I’ll regain my lands and my people but the decision...the decisions will be yours. I will be High Lord of the Spring Court in title only.”

As the last words left his lips, the air shifted. The breeze blew warm against my skin, kissing the sweat from my forehead. I breathed in deeply. The air was slightly humid and it carried my lilac and salted scent, made stronger by the use of my magic. I almost could watch the wind as it carried from me to him, glimmering with hints of power. Tamlin stiffened as the wave enveloped him and raised his hand to his chest. Tugging on his tunic, he revealed the patch of skin underneath: right where his heart was were the black swirls of a tattoo. 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> play the game where you spot original vs. canon characters? and my favorite part about Feyre is that she is the most obvious hypocrite ( i mean everyone is) but I like her style of it. 
> 
> I still haven't found what I'm looking for - U2

**Feyre:**

“Sit back,” my healer said not unkindly. She, too, had a wonderfully melodic voice but wasn’t seraphim. She was the first fae I’d seen and the most beautiful one of them all. This island was full of unnervingly gorgeous people. All her features were rounded as if they’d been sculpted. Looking at her made me want to paint again but I wasn’t sure I knew how to do that anymore. When I painted, I’d lose myself to my thoughts and the rest faded into the background. That type of peace seemed forever beyond my reach. 

I’d done my best to avoid these moments but she found me anyway. She always knew. I spent my nights wandering outside the palace with only a short period of time sleeping, hoping to be away at dawn. She’d find me once I woke with terrifying accuracy. I’d tried to sleep later and wake earlier but she knew once I was up no matter when I rose. 

The sun crept over the horizon, yellow hazy light filtering in. It was the crisp sort of morning where the blue sky could have been forged steel and everything was clearer. 

I yawned. 

“If you’re going to rise early, maybe you should sleep a little bit earlier as well,” she chided, smiling to herself. Her warm hands prodded my shoulder wounds. She was worried they’d scar and I’d have partial function with them. I nodded my head but I could tell by the quirk of her lips she didn’t believe I was listening anyway. Last night, I’d unintentionally made a bargain with Tamlin but felt no distress over it. If anything, I slept more peacefully for longer. He’d never be able to hurt me again. 

She shook her head, smiling to herself and continued to assess the damage. She’d remarked several times how fast my healing was. Though she had few reasons to suspect the source of my healing, I felt there was a question in these comments she held back from me. 

She had delicately curved, pointed ears that were pierced multiple times with silver coils weaving in and out to dangle at the lobe. Her hair was braided tightly against her skull before it unwound into a halo of coils and curls. More silver rings were interwoven in the braids. She wore the same loose vest-like dress I did but wore a wrap around her shoulders like the one she gifted me. 

I glanced back at her ears and the beautiful metalwork. My earrings still winked at me from my nightstand. I bit my lip.  _ Rhys wouldn’t care if I wear the earrings or not _ . He’d throw the earrings into the ocean if he knew how ashamed I was of my ears. Though it gave my concern away, I tugged on my earlobes again. 

“So where do you go at night?” my healer asked. Her searching hands skimmed the circumference of my ears, batting away my fingers. They weren’t sensitive anymore. They’d healed by the time I arrived on their shores. When she leaned in, her stomach pressed into me. My healer was heavily pregnant as well but she claimed she was only halfway along. When I wasn’t studying her beauty, I studied her belly without trying to be too rude. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a pregnant fae. I didn’t know her but I thought she’d make an excellent mother. “You don’t attend the dinners Prince Drakon invites you to. And you’re not in your rooms,” she tilted her head. 

“I walk about.” 

“Not to the village though. I think we’d hear the buzz. You three are the first to grace our island.” 

“You’ve never left?” 

“The people here have a reason for wanting to be forgotten,” she replied cryptically. 

“You left behind people though,” it was bold and rude to state it but it was true. I did as well and the longer I spent here, the longer they had no answers.  _ But it’d be so easy _ , I whispered.  _ To hide here and never return with all your considerable shame.  _

Her wide brown eyes met mine. There was something depthless in their solid depths. Not like mine, a cool blue like a watery sky. “The people who knew me centuries ago are long gone now,” she admitted, swallowing towards the end. “I expect all but High Lord Rhysand and your Court would truly remember us. And Jurian,” she said tightly. I stared at her. "The people I care for are with me here so we had little reason to return," she shrugged casually as if I, too, understood what it was like living in a place where no one knew I existed. Velaris was that place but I existed outside of it. She disappeared along with everyone else and for that, they were forgotten about. Rhysand barely mentioned them. I looked back into my lap where my hands fidgeted. I didn't want to be forgotten but my imminent return still needled. 

"I will return when my magic does," I stated. 

"I expect not long then." I raised a brow. My magic had been quite stubborn in lifting its lazy head. Until I made the bargain with Tamlin, it had been all but silent. "You've a considerable amount of magic inside you. From which family did you come from?" She asked curiously. Sure enough, when I turned my eyes inward I felt the hum of my magic. My heart jumped. I'd be going home soon. For a whole trove of reasons, my throat closed as well. I had to clamp down on the instinct that pushed me to reach for my mate’s mind or to summon a magic to confirm it’s health and presence. 

"You were hidden here well before my family ever made their name," it was the easiest confession I'd ever made because it was true. Now, the Archeron’s would be forever in history’s eye. 

"What is your Court? Did you grow up in the Night Court with your mate?" Her questions treaded on topics I intended never to answer. I was a misnomer of a fae. Nothing made sense for me and so every question I answered would only raise more flags, ask more questions. 

"We had no Court," I replied. I resisted biting my lip. 

"I didn't know the Courts became so accepting of undeclared fae. They never quite liked fighting with Prince Drakon for that reason. It makes them uneasy when they can't twist your arm. High Lord Rhysand, of course, the exception." I shrugged, pretending to wear a cloak of indifference. I smiled thinking of Rhysand. Lucien had never sworn loyalty and I was glad he didn't. After Tamlin though, that dynamic could have changed. Rhysand would be less willing or forgiving of those who expected to get close without first giving over their loyalties. I thought back to the bargain; I proved no different. 

"Much has changed. I should be returning soon anyway," I replied despite having nothing else to say because I was worried she would continue her line of questioning. 

"Prince Drakon will want to speak with you before you leave." Of course he would. Prince Drakon had continuously sent invitations to my room to join him and his mate for dinner. I didn’t desire his company.  _ Do you desire anything?  _ I closed my eyes, pressing them tighter and tighter to will away all the tears. I desired everything but what I asked for was beyond my control. "And I hazard to say leaving so soon might further exhaust your magic. And your wounds," she looked to my abdomen. Superficially, they were fine but the way she prodded at my flesh with some sense of searching made me doubt how healed they truly were. 

"I need to go home." I swallowed through the lump. I looked away from her. I had the belief everything would have to work itself out when I was with my family, even if it wasn't how it used to be. Even if the more I told myself this, the more it felt like a lie. 

"Another day cannot hurt," she prompted, stepping into my view and bringing my eyes back to her beautiful stomach. I’d never thought about children. Rhysand and I barely mentioned it. We never had the time.  _ So how had it become so pivotal?  _

"You do not know that. There are people out there waiting for me," I bit back. There was a war beyond the beauty of this island and each day I sat here was a day they were beyond my help.  _ They don't need your help _ , my inner voice whispered. 

A buzzing began in my ears, so soft I questioned if it really existed. But I caught a word or  _ the hint _ of a word from it every now and then. I pushed it from my mind, meeting my healers concerned eyes. "Your mate will understand," she said, voice throaty. 

I knew she wasn't speaking only over returning home. There was a creature in me that fed itself on everything I lacked or believed I lacked. Each day it grew darker and spoke louder. My thoughts got away from me. Her warm hand rested on my upper arm that she squeezed gently. Under her warm, brown gaze I didn’t feel pitied. She was too honest. She believed what she said. 

We were interrupted by a knock. “One moment, Tadeo,” my healer called. She helped me straighten my smock tunic and slip back on my loose pants. I clasped the wrap around my shoulders when she answered Tadeo, pulling aside the dividing curtain. 

“Prince Drakon has requested to see Lady Feyre and you,” he said, filling up the entire doorway. Both looked at me questioningly. I didn’t think it was an offer I could refuse so I slipped from my bed and slid on the leather shoes they’d provided in answer. I swiped my earrings from the nightstand and rose to my feet, motioning for the pair to lead the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We met Prince Drakon in the same room I’d met with him before. The map was still stained with pomegranate juice. My healer entered first and promptly took a seat at the table, resting her hands on top of her stomach. “I’m famished. Tadeo, would you bring lunch?” 

“It’s not yet noon,” Prince Drakon chuckled. Three more people stood in the room. A human male, a seraphim female and an older fae female. The seraphim female and human male could have been related. They had the same pleasant face with dark brown eyes and a warmish smile; however, the seraphim female was slighter in spite of her wings towering over both of them. Another glance and I realized she was the same seraphim that flew me away from the beach. The older female had brassy skin and faded red hair that she had braided down her head but it split at the base of her neck to form two separate braids that fell against her chest. She could have swapped eyes with a viper. 

“Would you rather me starve?” my healer taunted. Tadeo shuffled awkwardly next to me. 

Prince Drakon shook his head quickly and sat down besides her at the table. “Tadeo, please bring a small tray. And Lady Feyre, a seat if you would,” his eyes pleaded silently with us. 

I took the same seat I had before. The one closest to the door and opposite of Drakon. I kept silent and watched them watch me. I hoped I was invited as a courtesy and this meeting was not about me. I was wrong. 

“Lady Feyre, these are our three Generals: Malcolm, Elle, and Pia. We’ve been deliberating on the predicament your arrival, along with Jurian and Tamlin’s, have put us in,” Drakon started. I guess it was naive of me to think my residence on this small island would pass by peacefully. I was not an innocuous house guest. The days I spent here were just a small break from my real role. “When you came, you broke through our wards. You risked the discovery of this island and its inhabitants. Although you didn’t know what you did, you still have the ability and now know of our location. Now, I must ask what you plan to do with that information now that you have it.”

“I’m not interested in revealing your secrecy if that is what you mean,” I replied sternly. Rhysand would know. I’d never lie to him but beyond him, I could keep their secret. Is this not what we trusted Lucien and Elain with? Velaris had been hidden for longer. We were trustworthy keepers of secrets. 

Drakon nodded solemnly. “Yes. But Jurian and Tamlin have made no such promises.” I was about to say Tamlin wouldn’t but stopped myself; I’d tell him not to and skin him alive using our bargain if he so much as hinted at disagreeing. But Tamlin’s bargain was not going to be revealed and he wasn’t the real concern anyway, at least not for Drakon.  _ Jurian.  _ There was no containing that situation even if I could have warded him to the bottom of the ocean. Him and I laughed at meeting the dawn several times and as such, most threats paled in light of that. 

“And so you plan to try and keep us here?” I arched a single brow. I slid the door to my magic open not knowing what I planned to do but knowing I’d not end this day in chains. 

“No, Lady Feyre,” he shook his head more forcefully. He swallowed uncomfortably, glancing at my healer almost beseechingly. 

“We think Tamlin and Jurian should stay here. When you leave,” she answered.

All eyes watched me for my reaction. 

“Indefinitely?” I asked. 

My healer and Drakon exchanged a glance. Forever was a long time when you were fae. “Until we knew they’d not betray us,” she said. 

“You might be waiting a long time then,” I mused. “I don’t think they’d like it. Tamlin has something of a home on Prythian,” I shrugged. It solved a few of my problems but something inside frowned at just abandoning them on this rock.  _ They aren’t your allies _ , I chastised. But Jurian’s words haunted me. We three were the last to survive Amarantha’s rage. We’d survived Hybern.  _ That does not make us allies _ . 

“We can’t be sure Jurian wouldn’t betray us,” the seraphim female, Elle, stated. “He worked for Hybern.” 

“Hybern resurrected him. I doubt he had a choice,” I answered cooly. All eyes swung to me. “When Amarantha got a hold of Jurian, she didn’t let him die. She preserved his conscious mind in a piece of jewelry. Hybern must have used the Cauldron to bring him back.” My words rattled the table. Heads recoiled and my healer even leaned far back in her seat, face going to ash. 

“The Cauldron?” the elder fae, Pia, shook. “The King of Hybern has the Cauldron.” 

“Yes but it’s...been rendered useless for the time,” I dipped my head. None of the Generals appeared comforted by my revelation. They shouldn’t be. The world might have ended and they’d never have known. 

I felt Drakon’s eyes on me, making the hairs on my body stand up. I turned back and glared. My healer frowned at my response. “How does the Lady of the Night Court perform a rescue mission with Jurian?” 

“It wasn’t a rescue mission. It was an escape,” I clarified. 

“And Jurian just happened to leave with you?” he asked, eyes narrowing. 

“He took his chance to escape as well.” 

“Then why did he wait for you to show up to do it? He winnowed you and the High Lord of the Spring Court here-”

“Maybe because we planned on the island being abandoned and having my mate find us. It was good he didn’t try before otherwise he’d have drowned a few paces from the shore, no thanks to your ward,” I snapped, slamming my hand on the table. It shook but Drakon alone was unrattled by my display. “Are you going to accuse one of us for working for Hybern or will you continue this futile line of questioning? Ask your questions and be done with it. I have a war to return to. One that doesn’t end while I’m hiding on some fucking rock.” 

“We did what we had to do,” Elle glared, her wings rustling behind her. 

“Yeah,” I barked a laugh. It echoed loudly, crassly in the deadly quiet room. “I’m sure you did. But the truth is there is a war being fought out there and many people dying because of it,” I glanced at my lap. Whenever I got this angry, it was when I thought of Nesta and Elain. The choice they’d been robbed of and my failure in protecting them. 

As I met the stiff and solemn faces around the room, I felt the rage inside me burn away till it was just ash.  _ Hypocrite. Fucking, worthless hypocrite.  _ I could not stand as the High Lady of the Night Court and judge these people for keeping their secrets. Would I condemn my own people? Demand they also pay in blood for the crime of safety? I pressed my suddenly tired eyes shut and let out a long sigh, the anger releasing from me back into the world. “I can’t judge you,” I whispered. “I can’t. You keep your people safe here on this island and stay far away from the rest of this fucked world. But...I...I must return, I have people waiting for me there. I’ll not tell your secret.” 

No one spoke for a long moment. I bowed my head, thinking of the times we’d almost lost the people we cared for. Nesta and Elain were Made. Lucien’s back flayed to the bone. Cassian’s wing snapped like a twig. Azriel almost disemboweled. Rhysand’s injury led to me taking his place in Adriata. I worried for them all. What had I missed? 

“Thank you, Lady Feyre,” my healer said quietly. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” I whispered, feeling rotten. I wanted to return to my rooms. 

“How did you end up in Hybern’s prison?” Elle asked. “Alongside the High Lord of the Spring Court?” Prince Drakon nodded with interest.

I smiled ruefully. “It was a trap,” I shook my head. I rose from the table. I needed to move. My hands itched to grasp things beyond them. My muscles twitched. My magic built inside me, whispering to me  _ soon soon soon.  _ If I lifted my nose to the air, I’d smell the salt welcoming me back. 

I walked back alone to my room when the meeting concluded. I barely paused in it long enough to grab a towel before heading to the baths. It was redundant to bathe before training but I wanted to feel clean. I quickly stripped, slipped into the water far from where others were resting. Where they could see me. If they noted my presence at all none of them spoke on it. I didn’t spend long in the scalding water, just enough to wash my hair thoroughly and scrub my skin. After, I waded back to the side and plucked Rhysand’s earrings off the floor. They still gleamed brilliantly even after I’d shoved them between the floorboards. I thought I’d never see them again and now that I had them, I was reluctant to wear them. They felt foreign, both too heavy and too light in my hands. They still did. I figured they always would so I fastened them back into my ears, welcoming their weight. 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We speak of only wholesome things tonight 😭💖
> 
> A Sky Full of Song - Florence and the Machine   
> Bright Lights and Cityskapes - Sara Bareilles

**Morrigan:**

Rhysand was skittish today. I didn’t normally describe him as such, quite the opposite. Like Azriel, he sided with calm more than letting his emotions carry him like Cassian and I did so often. It made working with him a regrettable experience but thankfully we hadn’t been called in yet to fight. 

We were assisting the Summer and Fall Court in reaching the mouth of the Andros more and more. We didn’t want to give away our position in the Relaran Pass so we pretended like we still lived with the rest of the Courts. Helion worked excessively hard to ensure the wards guarding us were strong and undetectable. Winnowing directly into the camp was prevented obviously but we even had Day Court soldiers responsible for allowing us entry and exit. He had done the same with the Summer and Fall Courts but High Lord Beron had doubted that ‘very much’. 

I had to admit that as much as I detested the Fall Court, they’d been busy. They’d cleared nearly half the terrain in under a week by the strategy of burning everything larger than a soldier: can’t ambush if you can’t hide anywhere. The heat was immense. Beron and his four surviving sons produced a wave of flame that consumed everything in it’s path. It was the most brutal and effective strategy I could think of. The Illyrians and Dark Bringers could possibly match them for sheer cruelty but definitely not effectiveness. With cold, determined precision they eliminated more and more sections of the jungle. 

We went days without seeing a single fight. Only when the flames reached encampments of soldiers were we called in. We’d descend and in under an hour, a massacre. If they didn’t burn, they’d meet our swords. The Summer Court were responsible for putting out the flames and some Day Court soldiers saw to their protection as they did so. 

Each day we went on like this. We reclaimed more and more land and lost a minimal amount of our forces. If we’d have done this a month ago, I wondered what we could have achieved but I kept this to myself. If we continued on like this, we’d be at the Western Ocean in a week. The gossip around the camp was High Lord Beron was dedicated to clearing his name. Unfortunately, the longer Feyre and Tamlin stayed gone, an uglier rumor cropped up.  _ Feyre rejected Rhysand and ran away with her previous lover. Rhysand kidnapped her and she broke free of his spell. Feyre was pregnant with Tamlin’s child when she became Rhysand’s mate and Rhysand killed the two.  _ Every day she remained gone was another day more imaginative crap was passed around like a sick game of fill in the blank. 

I hoped Rhysand, usually sectioned away with the High Lords, never heard this.  _ He couldn’t have.  _ If he had, he’d have put an end to it with a few demonstrations. I thought taunting a male who could kill you with your worst fears was a particularly reckless move anyway. Saying those taunts within earshot made you kind of deserve it. But Cassian, Azriel and I were not as far removed from the soldiers. I’d already seen Azriel remove several ears but we were only at liberty to discipline our own soldiers and that was  _ after  _ we spoke to the Dark Bringer Captains or Illyrian Lords. If it was a different Court, it was either a challenge was issued or the words forgotten. Cassian had three already. I’d already won two. 

The more rumors I heard, the sicker I became. My memories clouded my thoughts and everywhere I looked was the Hewn City. If I saw Kier, I’d throw up. 

“The fires are dying down, we must be readying for a break,” Rhysand commented, pointing to the skyline. How he could tell anything meaningful from the smoke-covered sky was beyond me. Voluminous and dark clouds billowed into the crisp blue sky until all I could smell was ash. “I could use the break from the fight,” he muttered. 

I scoffed. He looked at me cockeyed and I blushed. “You’ve been dancing around me since we got here this morning. Ants in your pants or something?” I hadn’t felt comfortable with him completely since Under the Mountain. He’d never mentioned my decision to go for Cresseida first. I hated the wait. If he meant to scold me or say anything, I wished he’d just say it. 

He studied me for a moment with that uncannily steady gaze of his. He shrugged, finally, looking away. “It’s odd not fighting though we’re dressed for it. My heart has been racing, looking for the fight that isn’t coming.” I knew what he meant. The tenseness that overcame me before the battle where my entire body went on high alert. The awareness that danger is ahead and I’ll have to face it. 

“High Lord Rhysand,” I straightened. I hadn’t felt her approach, at second glance, I realized it was because her magic was still drained. We turned to welcome Cresseida into our conversation. She was sweaty and soot stained from keeping the Autumn Court flames at bay. I expected her and her family to be more upset at the engulfment of their home but she showed none of that tension, if it existed at all. 

I hadn’t seen Cresseida in days. When I’d left in a rush from her tent, I’d left behind my sword by mistake. My embarrassment in front of Varian drove me to mindlessness. I received it the following morning from a Day Court messenger and I thought that was the end of it. That was Cresseida’s response. 

“Lady Cresseida, how has your magic faired?” Rhysand greeted with a curt dip of his chin. If he had an opinion, it was kept under wraps with his perfectly bland expression. Rhysand had mastered the distant and amused smile well before he hit his first century. 

“Fine, fully recovered, thank you,” she replied quickly. Her cerulean eyes slid to me, “Would it be alright if I could borrow Lady Morrigan for a moment?” 

Rhysand’s violet eyes met mine, something warm and glittering in them. I got the oddest sense he was saying  _ I told you so _ but I didn’t get the chance to ask him about it. He was dipping his head and waving me away. “Of course,” he murmured politely. 

Cresseida watched him walk away before erecting a sound barrier. She must have felt comfortable from where she worked. She’d stripped to her skirt and a light tunic, her breast plate slung over her shoulder. Her hair was bright under the direct sun and made her difficult to look at. Each braid was left to swing about her, trailing well past her breast. Sweat dripped down her neck in rivulets that disappeared beneath her shirt until it clung to her. 

“I’m starved,” she jerked her head for me to follow her. One hand clasped around my forearm and she winnowed us out of sight. We reappeared in the center of the Summer Court’s camp, far from the smoke. It was dead quiet. Midday, everyone would be along the Andros helping to clear away any of Hybern’s soldiers or working to contain the flames. I returned to wondering how much she minded the incineration of her own Court. She walked confidently ahead of me. Her stride even and chin raised. Any who saw her dipped their chins politely and sometimes with the murmured  _ Princess _ . I received rather suspicious looks in her wake. 

She batted aside the curtain into her own tent which, thankfully, smelled nothing like smoke. Lemon citrus graced my nose. Once we entered, a soldier came in behind us carrying a fairly large tray that steamed with freshly cooked fish. Cresseida took her seat at her low table and waved him forward, studying the contents of the tray with an appraising eye before nodding her head. The soldier bowed and slipped past me wordlessly. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked, already grabbing an end of bread and ripping it apart. 

“I wasn’t aware you wanted me to join you,” I shifted nervously. Now I’d become the skittish one. I glanced at the exit. I shouldn’t stay long. 

As if sensing my thoughts, Cresseida waved me forward. “The fish was caught this morning straight from the Andros. I can’t eat it all,” she used her bread to shovel a large bite of stewed fish into her mouth, making a sound of delight. I knelt across from her slowly. In earnest, I felt like I’d been caught. Varian had caught me washing her hair and each night after, I cringed at how  _ stupid  _ that sounded. If my Court found out, they’d laugh me from the room. I cringed at the jokes Cassian would make. 

It was a ridiculous and brainless act I hadn’t thought twice about. There was no reason. Cresseida and I were by no means familiar, barely friends. She’d likely call me an unwitting ally. Yet I took that liberty like a fool, was caught by her twin and my embarrassment was complete now that she’d finally persecute me for acting such. My cheeks heated. I was a centuries old fae. I was no stranger to sex and love; I considered myself rather experienced and competent. My blush flamed over my skin as if I had just entered my first century. 

I had been so consumed by my mortification that I hadn’t noticed Cresseida serve me food. And I hadn’t moved to touch it, my thoughts so far away. Cresseida watched me with keen, round eyes between bites of her lunch. The bread smelled heavenly. When I finally realized my delay, my mouth popped open in more horror.  _ Five centuries, Mor, five and you’re trembling _ , I scolded. Cresseida was two centuries my junior and yet had more self-control in her pinkie than I did my entire body. 

Cresseida’s lips upturned, she leaned her chin on her hand. Arching a snow-white brown, she smiled. “You’re more red than the curry,” she crooned. I bit my cheek till I drew blood. I dipped my head to hide my face. She sighed out, long and resigned. “Yes, Varian did tell me he found you washing the blood from my hair.” 

I shuddered like I’d been struck.  _ Fool. Stupid fool.  _ “I’m sorry,” I uttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Varian was rather disturbed,” she said loftily. “But he was just embarrassed you’d stayed with me and he took so long in arriving,” she waved those thoughts away. I wondered what I had been thinking, letting Cresseida whittle me away from Rhysand’s side. My pride was being drawn and quartered. If it wouldn’t have been the cowards way out, I would have winnowed away to some place private where I could drown myself in peace. 

Cresseida reached across the table to tap my plate, bringing my attention away from my lap and back to her face. A gentle smile crossed her lips. She wetted them before she spoke, “I thought it was sweet.” That had not been the reaction I thought she’d give. My shock must have been evident as she tipped her head back, gloriously long neck exposed, and laughed. The melodic sound circled in the tent. “Did you want me to scold you?” she asked incredulously. 

I shook my head. My throat was dry. I swallowed several times before replying. “I didn’t want all the blood to crust over,” I explained lamely, voice dying out towards the end. 

She smiled even brighter. “Thank you for doing that.” She leaned back on her pillow, pulling apart another piece of fish. Her fingers glistened as the curry sauce dripped along her forearms but she remained focused on me, wholly unconcerned with the mess. “You should show this side of you more often,” she remarked, raising a piece of fish to her mouth. 

“What side?” I asked, finally reaching for the plate she served. If I didn’t start moving, I’d shake until I fell apart at the joints. Relief threatened to undo me. She threatened to unravel me entirely. I waited on her next words, my entire outlook hinged on their approval or no. Knowing I hadn’t managed to drive her away with a single, foolish action set my racing heart at ease. 

“The side that makes my people glare at you.” Cresseida spoke around a mouthful. She motioned to me, in my armor. Shaking her head, she smiled to herself, “I can see now.” 

“See what?” 

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine and they flashed brightly, magic pulsing. “The truth. You’re softer beneath your armor. A kinder fae despite your Court.” My jaw clenched. My Court was not kind but I didn’t think the two were entirely mutually exclusive. 

“And what has changed your opinion so drastically?” I barely drew breath. 

When I studied her, I forgot why I’d even asked. She gazed at me with a sorrowfully serene smile. Her eyelids were half-lowered, mind stuck in our shared memories. “It was that day on the continent.” That was when everything changed between Cresseida and I. Her voice dropped lower as she recalled, “You were crying so hard, all alone...I could see that you cared and you hid that underneath, away from where people might see just how much you care. I thought maybe that you’d hid yourself so well but you’re incapable of hiding indefinitely. You washed my hair because you wanted to help, odd as it was,” her lips twitched in a hint of a laugh. 

I swallowed. “You hide too,” I began, maybe too boldly from the startled look she gave. “You’re not the same here as you are in the High Lord’s tent, in front of the soldiers.” But the role she played was far more versatile than mine. I was a diplomat to the Night Court, Third in Command and known for my haunting magic. Cresseida was the beloved, albeit momentarily displaced, Princess of Adriata and dutiful warrior sworn to protect her High Lord. 

Her lips twitched. “Is anyone the face they show in public?” Her eyes traced my face, searching for something in the curve of my lips or creases besides my eyes. “Is your Court like you?” 

I could have lied. The instinct was there.  _ Protect. Hide. Guard.  _ But I didn’t want to. It would have been a betrayal of her trust so I found myself nodding. “My Court has...good people too,” I explained, staring at my hands and how they pulled at one another. Though it didn’t matter. Cresseida would never know how beautiful my Court was as she’d never see Velaris, the pinnacle of my home’s efforts to keep a place bright in a world so bent on pain. 

I expected a snort of disbelief but Cresseida hummed. “That makes me a little more hopeful.” To what she referred, I didn’t know but I nodded with her. I bit my lip. 

“I should return,” I nodded, rising to my feet. 

Cresseida raised her brows. Worry crossed her face. She reached out her hand but didn’t touch me. “Would you like to return for dinner?” she offered, hopeful smile on her face. She was so painfully open that I felt like twice the wretch for hiding so much. “I could use a friend and good company,” she added, bobbing her head. The truth in her words tugged on my magic. She was lonely. 

Despite my fears, I found myself nodding before ducking away from her sight. 

When I winnowed back to the Andros, I found Rhysand calmer than I left him. I quickened to his side. “Did I miss a fight?” I asked, hand going to my sword belt. 

Rhysand’s mouth flickered. “A small skirmish. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Rhysand could almost match Cassian for bloodlust with Feyre gone.

Knowing I missed the fight  _ again _ , I rushed to voice my apology. “I’m sorry—”

He waved it away. “Not necessary. You two had things to speak about, I’m sure.” The way he spoke, words laden with implication, made me furrow my brows. I opened my mouth but he cut me off again. His violet eyes full of mirth. “You lose your head worse than Cassian does, fretting over Nesta.”

My stomach dropped and my breath hitched. “What?” I barely uttered. I groped for a sound barrier only to realize Rhysand had already raised one. I glanced around, convinced someone would be reading our lips. 

“No one can see us,” he said, assuring me of his illusions, before glancing down at his feet. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, deep. “I wish you told me but your father...the laws...I know why you didn’t,” he nodded, jaw clenching “And I’m sorry that you couldn’t tell me.” 

“When did you figure it out?” his voice and mine were almost drowned out by the rush of my blood, my magic. 

He laughed, giving me a sideways look. “When do you think? When you ignored my directives to go to Cresseida. More than five centuries I’ve grown up with you and you never abandon your post before—”

“Rhys, I’m sorry I abandoned it,” I breathed out, feeling my chest and heart collapse. 

“Mor,” Rhys stopped me with a shake of his head. A smile, though sad, graced his lips. “I think it’s fair to say Cassian would abandon the front line if Nesta was in danger,” I found myself smiling back. He would, without a doubt. Rhysand’s eyes searched over the soldiers around us, milling around completely unaware of our presence. They landed on Cassian across the clearing. “How could I tell another what to pick? Duty or the person they love most in the world? We do this ugly work for the one we love. I wouldn’t ask you to sacrifice that. If you’re intent on telling me Cresseida is a friend then I’d have to call you a liar and tell you that friends don’t sacrifice the fate of the world for each other.” 

I bit my lip. I really had risked Nesta, the Cauldron and the world for Cresseida. 

Rhysand’s voice, deep and somber, brought my attention back to him. He didn’t meet my eyes, fixating on our family instead. “We do this for the people we love. Without them, it’s all for nothing.” 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (02/27): oh boy its updated, this moment will be continued on in upcoming chapters   
> (02/26): thank you all for checking in on me yesterday and for understanding the lack of an update. this chapter will be updated once more tomorrow :) thank you guys for making me a very grateful writer  
> (02/25): guys...i've had a hell of a day, i can't update tonight. i'm sorry guys.  
> (02/24): i see all your comments (they are the first thing i read come morning) and I will respond soon. I just love all your encouragements and responses. They motivate me each night when I write.  
> (02/23): we've arrived. this chapter will be added to tomorrow with the next part. expect much. 😘
> 
> Be My Husband - Nina Simone  
> Carry Me - Eurielle

**Rhysand:**

Elain’s letter was pressed against my chest. I first thought to tuck it away into my pocket but that seemed so careless. It could fall out. I wore a sword belt, it could have been tucked where I kept the cloth for cleaning my blade. Yet, it was too exposed. I refused to leave it behind. It’d fused with my mind. Every waking moment I spent interpreting the words, wondering if I guessed their meaning correctly or was making the obvious assumption. The fact I couldn’t figure out _exactly_ their meaning drove me near insanity. The fact it was _Elain’s_ words, Feyre’s sisters, only made my thoughts more scrambled. She’d have insight into Feyre and that could affect the words she selected, the meaning she took: 

_Held by safer hands_

_On shores long forgotten._

_Closest to your enemies and_

_Yet safest in their shadows._

_That which you reach for shall escape,_

_But that which you allow shall come to call._

_Where the first to fall lay,_

_What was stolen shall return._

_When day meets the night_

_And eyes turn toward the future_

_Leave all behind but that_

_You cannot pass on without._

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, like pulling out a fresh piece of paper. If Azriel, walking besides me, thought my actions odd, he kept quiet. I think I had enough on my plate to earn a few passes. 

I tucked Elain’s letter in a pocket I’d asked my tailor to add to all my tunics. It was a pocket just over my left clavicle which would be hidden by the cut of the shirt. On the inside of the tunic was a slip of cloth perfectly sized for the folded piece of paper. Each day I slipped the letter into the pocket, sealing it with magic, and knew it’d be safe. By the time I had all of this completed, I belatedly realized I could have just _sealed_ it inside my pant’s pocket. 

My brain was not performing as it might. I blamed my nerves: caught between my mate’s escape, planning a war, and attempting to protect my mate’s wayward siblings. I entertained myself by debating which sister’s vulnerability terrified me worse: Nesta, who found new and creative ways to avoid me while also living alongside Illyrians and Dark Bringers; not to mention that Hybern would risk half his army to reclaim her. Or Elain, who lived in an entirely different Court and trapized around a war-torn Prythian with just _Lucien_ to protect her. Not that Lucien wasn’t capable but Lucien was one male. These thoughts distracted me up until the point I came to terms with their constant weakness and what I would do if either of them were hurt. It went beyond the hurt it would cause Feyre. I couldn’t handle their pain anymore than I could tolerate Azriel’s or Mor’s. 

A week of these ramblings and I realized I’d adopted Feyre’s sisters just as she had with Lucien. When I got past the embarrassment of my delayed epiphany, something soft was struck inside me: _I had sisters._ And I thought it was perfectly like my blood-sister to send me two more with a penchant for trouble and otherworldly magic. I still thanked her on Starfall. 

We arrived at my tent. Azriel left the entrance wide open. Whatever sunlight that could filter through the mist helped to brighten the room that looked more and more like a crypt to me. It was quiet and empty as always without Feyre. Cassian, Nesta and Mor would arrive and it would never be as it was. Not until we all were together. Azriel went to work, readjusting the map to match our progress from today. “They moved faster today,” he observed, eyes flicking over the red leaf pieces signifying Autumn Court burns. 

“Careful,” I replied, going to my bookshelf. “That almost sounded like a complement.” 

“I still have time to frame them,” he replied evenly though his shadows whipped around. After a week of working with his spies, Azriel finally confirmed that High Lord Beron had absolutely nothing to do with Feyre and Tamlin’s disappearance. We would never hear the tale until they returned. I could tell Azriel didn’t understand why I hadn’t spent my time with Feyre, mentally visiting, more tactically aimed. He could be fairly blunt like that.

“Az?” 

He looked up from the map. He’d let his hair get a bit shaggier since the start of the war. A curl dangled, hovering between his eyes. From the candlelight, the shadows beneath his eyes seemed _unnatural_ on the Shadowsinger. “Yes?” 

“Are you lonely?” 

Whatever he’d been expecting, my question certainly wasn’t it. He recoiled, frowning. His brows creased. “Am I lonely?” he repeated slowly, sounding the words out like he’d never heard them. After he digested them, he frowned and refocused on me. “I didn’t realize I was alone.” 

“You’re not.”

“Then what-” 

“In less than two months, almost all our family has found a significant other.”

His eyes brightened as he took my meaning. “Not Mor.” 

“I know of Cresseida.” 

He accepted this with a nod but I didn’t believe it for a second. His eyes averted mine. He bit his lip. I guessed correctly then: nothing got passed Azriel. I smiled. 

I’d first been hurt. My cousin hadn’t confided in me and no matter the reason, I felt it reflected more on my character than hers. When I realized it was just as likely Azriel, Spymaster as he is, also kept this from me, I was shocked. I had to wonder if Cassian knew and I simply was the last to guess why Mor never found a male she liked. The last emotion was embarrassment. 

“Amren,” he finally provided. 

Sometimes saying her name sounded like an invocation. I waved his suggestion away. “The day Amren doesn’t look at a fae without disgust in her eyes is the day we’re all fucked.” Amren avoided all questions regarding her that could possibly give us any helpful information about her origin. We weren’t even sure if she was female. She definitely wasn’t fae or from this world. For all we knew, she could have been a plant spirit and asexually reproduce. I shivered at the thought of children just like her: cool, collected, and bloodthirsty. 

He shrugged. I made a solid argument. “No, not lonely,” he said a little too quickly. 

I cocked my head. “You can tell me honestly.” 

“I’m not though.” 

“Az—” 

“I don’t want it, Rhys,” he snapped. I raised my brows, mouth open. His eyes combed over me and my recoiled posture. His wings snapped in tightly, shadows curling around him. He thrust a hand through his hair without regard for the bits of dirt and blood crusting the black curls. He ran his tongue over his teeth and placed his hands on his hips, considering his next words more carefully. “I see you and Cassian ready to drop everything for Feyre and Nesta. Mor ignored your orders for Cresseida. Lucien…” Azriel swallowed, checking something before adding, “And Lucien almost exposed Velaris but you forgave him, not for Feyre and don’t lie to me...it wasn’t for her. At least not all of it.” Azriel shook his head before pinning me with a knowing stare. “You forgave Lucien because you understood the lengths to which a person would go for their mate.” 

I stood frozen. Azriel’s words were so unexpected I wasn’t fast enough in formulating a response. 

“And I think,” he sighed, losing some of the tension in his shoulders. “That at least one of us should keep our heads clear.”

I squinted. “And you think your head is the clearest?” 

He took obvious offense. Scoffing, “You’ve been as coherent as drunk these past few weeks. Cassian…” Azriel blew out a breath, once again combing through his hair. His eyes slid to mine, full with unsaid intention. “Cassian is sometimes perfectly normal and then he just _transforms_ into a complete fool,” Azriel fluttered his hands like they were Cassian’s rational mind, blowing away in the breeze. He slumped into his seat at the table. 

“You didn’t mention Lucien,” I joined him. 

The doorway was behind me. Light filtered in to land on Azriel’s face, illuminating the mirth. “Lucien was a lost cause the moment he met Elain,” Azriel buried his face in his hands. 

I chuckled with him, sharing the moment. “And you weren’t?” Azriel’s head shot up, eyes wide in alarm. I raised a brow. “Don’t think I don’t recall the _shrub_.” 

“That...that was Lucien,” he breathed. I memorized Az’s shocked face. Not often could I catch him off guard and I relished this opportunity. I suspected his emotions but Azriel was a hard read. He barely had tells. I was proud at this moment my instincts had been right. 

“And you stayed and helped,” Azriel wasn’t bound by social norm. He left when he pleased. Slipped in the shadows without any feelings of regret or obligation. Him remaining behind in that one moment was enough to flame rumors for centuries to come. 

He pursed his lips, hiding a guilty smile. He shook his head. “It was a foolish moment. I even admit it.” He licked his lips and I remained silent, waiting on what he’d admit to next. He never got to speaking though. His head swiveled towards the door behind me. A shadow occupied it in the next moment, blocking the hazy light of the sunset. 

“High Lord Helion,” Azriel greeted. I reached for the sound barrier, lowering it as they stepped into the room. I wasn’t sure something as trivial as a sound barrier even mattered to not one but two spell cleaving fae. Lucien stood behind Helion, Elain linked on his arm. Quick assessments of their faces told me they’d respected our privacy. 

That didn’t stop the slamming of my heart. I cringed to think what would have occurred next. Lucien was more fair-tempered than myself or Cassian but I wasn’t really concerned he’d hurt Azriel: more or less Lucien would tackle his father to the ground. The Day Court wasn’t known for monogamy. Helion had several lovers over the centuries, none taking the title of Lady or Lord. If he’d heard Azriel’s confession, I think Helion would have suggested himself into an early funeral pyre. Lucien might wear Day Court robes but I doubt that meant he wanted to embrace all ideals of Day Court life, especially those that concerned Elain. 

I rose to meet the trio, schooling my features. “What brings you?” It was a struggle not to study all their faces. 

“We’ve some plans to make,” Helion replied vaguely, sidestepping me to take a seat at my table. He laid his hands palm down on the wooden surface as if to lay claim. Elain took a seat next to Helion while Lucien stood behind her, hand resting on her shoulder. I snuck a glance at Azriel but his attention went back to the door again. 

Mor stood but once her eyes landed on our company, she hooked a finger over her shoulder. About to claim an excuse, she ran into the subject of that very excuse. Cassian and Nesta stood behind her. Cassian, seeing something undoubtedly akin to panic in Mor’s eyes, peered behind Mor into the tent. His eyes landed squarely on Helion and he breathed a few curses. But they were committed and all three walked into the tent. 

Nesta was still wearing her smock from the healer’s tent. She untied it before tossing it over the back of a chair, her thoughts on her task and ignoring the fuss in the room. I wasn’t focusing on this though. I watched _Helion_ focus on Nesta and praying that when I looked at Cassian, I wouldn’t see a fiery inferno instead. My brother, thankfully, only clicked his jaw once. Helion’s eyes swiveled to my General and I bit my cheek to keep the smile at bay as a world-ending glare passed from one to the other. 

I met Azriel’s eyes from across the table. He wore a small, yet proud, smile. _Told you so._ I swallowed to keep my mirth clear. 

Nesta ignored Helion in a fashion that made Azriel’s icy exterior seem friendly. Helion didn’t exist. I wasn’t entirely sure she saw him. Nesta only studied her younger sister with an appreciative glance, combing over the healthy glow and spotless dress. She nodded her head once as if to let Lucien know she approved. I didn’t know if I imagined Lucien’s relief or not. 

Dressed in head-to-toe Night Court black, as customary in the Night Court’s camp, she was every bit as impenetrable a force as her magic suggested. If Helion sensed the magic contained by Lucien’s ward, he didn’t reveal. Though I didn’t doubt he tried. I almost considered warning him first. Cassian’s reaction would pale in comparison to Nesta’s if she sensed him _prodding_ her with magic. 

I cleared my throat, doing my part to avoid disaster. “And what plans have you come to make?” I hadn’t eaten yet. I thought I’d enjoy dinner with my family and as I watched Helion recline into his chair, I realized that was a mistake. 

“The Autumn Court has been paving the way to Adriata,” Helion began. “Hybern will know we mean to retake the city within a week. He’ll fortify the city.” Helion’s eyes slid to me, golden flashing before looking back at the rest of the table. “We gained N’simura. He won’t want to release Adriata.” I took a discrete breath in, forcing calm. The city didn’t burn long enough. Testament of my failure, it was the only solid thing I could direct my rage towards. 

“And you want to tell the Autumn Court to stop?” Mor frowned. Glances circled the table. I wasn’t sure where Helion was heading either. Everyone leaned in, waiting. 

“No,” Helion said, comfortable with the attention. “They’re serving their purpose for the moment. Instead, we should focus on what Hybern is doing within the city in preparation. He deceived us in N’simura. But not this time.” If Helion mentioned N’simura one more time, I was going to be causing the trouble. 

Azriel was the first to grasp Helion’s plan. “Elain cannot share her visions.” Helion and Lucien looked to their Seer. I first doubted how well Elain would adjust to the Day Court but between the two, I could see it clearly. In a soft pink robe that highlighted the light coloring to her cheeks and their freckles, she glowed. With each passing day, she appeared more and more at home dressed in gold and bathed in sunlight. Even her easy manor, sitting comfortably in her seat with her mate behind her, was a far cry from the same human that came to the camps soaked and terrified. 

All heads swiveled to Elain, half-shocked and half-enthused. “No,” she said quietly with a small shake of her head. “The exact contents are mine to know but I shall reveal what I can.” Various members of my family gaped at her. They leaned in. It took only a small reminder to see that one of us knew what the future held. It wasn’t just outrageous but fantastic that she could see what we all just guessed at. Her Sight gave her an otherworldliness that only Nesta could match but in a wildly different manner. Even sitting with us, surrounded between Helion, Lucien and myself, she didn’t seem entirely real. 

After she was sure she held everyone’s undivided attention, Elain began to speak. Words and riddles spilled forth and only after the first poem had sounded did my family launch into motion. The disbelief that Elain was ready to reveal glimpses of the days to come shattered on the realization that they needed to be focusing on her words completely. 

Azriel and Mor furiously scribbled. Cassian pressed forward on the map, hand’s splayed on either side of Prythian, Nesta leaned close against him. While they worked, Elain glanced back to me, not faltering a moment in delivering prophecy after prophecy. Her wide doe-eyes took me in slowly before sliding to the door. I raised a brow but she’d already returned to reciting the future, focused on my family’s efforts. 

I leaned back in my seat from shock. My heart jumped. 

_When day meets the night_

_And eyes turn toward the future_

_Leave all behind but that_

_You cannot pass on without._

My eyes circled the room. All their attention was on Elain. Not even Azriel spared me a glance, wondering why I wasn’t also furiously scribbling. None of them noticed my surprise. _It was time._ Elain was giving me a doorway by which I could make my mistake. Why I must go alone was beyond me but I think too long on the reasons. At the end of this road was my mate and so I eagerly took my first step. I looked to my sister to thank her but she hadn’t glanced back at me since. But her lips curved upward knowingly and I dipped my head in silent thanks. 

Slipping into the background, I slid from the tent unnoticed and winnowed into the night.

**Feyre:**

Drakon called on me again but this time, I was led out of the palace by Tadeo. It was nearing sunset. I’d spent the afternoon resting and then running through a lazier version of my training. I was hesitant to strain myself _just_ as my magic returned. I’d only returned from another bath when Tadeo caught me on my way. I suppose it would have been too simple to winnow at night and below their notice. 

I was not someone who hid so well. I glanced at my tattoo. I realized, a little late, that if I wanted to I could hide my wounds. I could shapeshift myself flawless skin, bereft of all the scars, and even give myself my pointed fae ears again. The idea had been so attractive, I spent the afternoon imagining it. Rhysand would never know. My family would never know. The whispers and gossip would remain unfed when I returned. When the histories were told, they’d all report that Feyre returned untouched by Hybern. 

But I was not so foolish as to think that removing the visual reminders of being Hybern’s prisoner would erase the simple fact that I was. Whether I liked it or not, it happened and I was changed by it. How that change manifested was now up to me and I refused to start by hiding myself from my mate and my family. Though the thought of letting them see that wounded side of myself made my stomach turn. 

Tadeo led me down the mountain’s path but not towards the village at the base. Towards the south was more woods and what looked to be grassy fields. We slipped into the dense woods and walked along a well-worn path that could have comfortably let five walk side by side. The forest floor was dappled by the sunlight that managed to squeeze through the dense canopy. I could imagine Azriel trying to launch from within these woods and getting caught by the network. We curved right, walking just at the foot of the volcano and far from where the palace and village were built. 

Tadeo was a good guide. He didn’t press for information though his eyes followed me enough that I knew he sought it. He didn’t let his wings crowd me either. Sometimes, when Rhysand wanted to keep me near, he’d flare his wings and I’d subconsciously step closer towards him. Tadeo kept me at a distance. He stood a pace away from me at all times but never standing too far to be in my peripherals. I didn’t let others out of my sight if my back wasn’t to a wall now. When I bathed, I chose the spring nearest a wall and studiously watched those entering and exiting. Tadeo also never attempted to handle me or guide me in anyway, however well meaning. 

The only person I’d let touch me was my healer, but her touch was accompanied by copious amounts of explanation and inviting smiles. She’d seen my body as broken as it was when we first washed ashore. Like Jurian and Tamlin, she knew the truth and I didn’t have to hide my wounds from her. 

This wasn’t intentional but I realized over the time I spent here that I maintained a distance from me and others at all times. At first, it was because I didn’t want others to see my scars but it became more than that. I didn’t want Jurian too close. I sat across from Drakon. I refused all invitations to join him and Miriyam at dinner. People made me uneasy. I had to watch them. If there were too many for me to watch, then I was vulnerable. It was easy to stay far from the rest where I could feel secure.

The path grew steeper. Stone steps, embedded in the reddish clay earth, led us down. The forest dwindled until our left side was exposed to the ocean breeze and our right to the woods. If I took a few steps to my left, I’d fall into the ocean. Wind blew my hair in all directions. I’d yet to pull my hair back in it’s familiar braid. For now, I could handle the strands in my eyes. 

Motion caught my attention. Against a blue sky, the flash of white signaled the flight of a few seraphim. They were high in the sky above, diving and circling with the wind. Only a few flew and though they didn’t perform any obvious pattern, it appeared they were all dancing together. Hearing a rhythm only they could, they looked harmonious. Sometimes the sunlight caught the back of their wings and produced little bursts of color: the rainbow flashing for only a second on their iridescent backs. Longing opened up inside me. 

I tore my eyes away from the sky to look to my feet. 

The island was flecked by smaller rock formations just out to the sea. Some of them were large enough to boast a small crop of woods but most were barren black flecks against the horizon. We ended our descent on another beach of gray sand where Drakon stood. He was flanked by the seraphim female, Elle, and my healer. They looked odd standing together. All of them dressed for separate occasions and standing in infinitely different manors.

Drakon was all broad shoulders, even larger wings and dressed in immaculate, loose-fitting clothes that flapped in the wind. He held his hands behind his back and glared out at the sea. He might not have appeared like a warrior but I could see his armor for him, for now he was every bit the leader.

Elle was a seraphim but perhaps the smallest of them all. She wore armor I had no words to describe. It was just a white and grey gambeson but the fastenings had been drawn tight at her wrists, neck and waist. Her loose fitting pants had also been made of the same stiff material, more drawstrings along the length of her legs that secured the pants to her hips and knees. The pants leg descended into a leather boot that rose almost to the bottom of the knee. In her hand, she held a bow. 

My healer wore a loose fitting dress like Drakon, her round stomach protruding that she rubbed reassuringly while she spoke. Wearing silver jewelry and a wrap of rich indigo, she looked ready for a stately dinner. Her full lips might have been in rogue which suited her nice blush. 

When we arrived, they all turned. 

“When I sent Tadeo for you, I had the suspicion you were attempting to leave without saying farewell,” Drakon’s rich voice carried on the wind. He wore a genial smile that I didn’t feel like returning. Rhysand allied with Drakon for many reasons and I trusted they were honest ones; however, all I could see was Drakon’s shadow on the beach and his voice as he ordered our lives be taken. 

“I have asked her to rest another day,” my healer rested a hand on Drakon’s arm. She then flashed me a smile. “But I know you won’t listen.” I allowed a dip of my head to her with a polite smile that must have read as guilty. She grinned wider. “No, Rhysand awaits.”

I furrowed my brows. She’d wanted me to heal but now she smiled as if she understood herself. The pieces connected. “You’re Miryam,” I stated, taking her in anew. 

She nodded, smiling. Sensing my next question, she said in a tone devoid of judgement but filled with an understanding sorrow, “You never asked.” I didn’t have to scan my memories to think it was true. My policy had been fairly isolatory these past few days. Knowing this, the pang of guilt still hit the same. The next feeling to wash over me had me freezing in my approach. Tadeo stopped next to me, wondering why I did too. I searched Miryam’s warm eyes for the betrayal. _Already_ , I breathed though I wasn’t shocked. I should have expected this. Miryam recognized the questions and fear in me though I showed none of it outwardly. My face was still. My mask perfected. 

She cleared her throat. “Some things needed to be spoken of but your health is yours,” she assured. I looked out at the sea. There were very few secrets between mates but I hoped she’d kept mine for me. “I mean that,” she added as if she sensed the exact direction of my thoughts. Miryam’s empathy was renowned; it being the main reason so many fell into her rankings. Drakon may have been the leader of their army but that army came together because of Miryam in the first place. It followed that she’d be suited as a healer where she could sense her patient’s needs. In this case, I hoped that empathy told her enough about me to keep her knowledge of my injuries private. 

I dipped my head in curt acceptance, crossing the remaining distance to stand a pace away. Tadeo’s wings flared and blocked the wind from buffering against me. I wrapped my blue shawl tighter, my left arm tucked underneath. The loose pants and tunic I wore, both a muted grey, were heavy but the wind had a way of finding my bare skin. “You’ve called me here,” I stated when no one spoke. 

Drakon nodded. Miryam smiled at my bluntness. “When we first came to this island, do you know how we arrived?” 

“Winnowing?” I was done not knowing the histories. When I found Rhysand, he’d have to explain many things to me. Including what he liked about Drakon. 

“Seraphim cannot winnow,” he shook his head. “By ship. Miryam stole us a fleet after we nearly died when our last was burned to ash. We’ve kept them through the centuries in case we ever needed to return home,” his eyes searched the water. I joined him. Nothing but the few, small islands interrupted the horizon. “We now think perhaps we should use those ships to join the War.” 

“You’d be sacrificing your security,” I replied without letting a moment pass. 

Drakon squinted at me, turning to face me to see my face better. “This morning you told us that we were _hiding on some fucking rock_ ,” he flicked up an eyebrow as if challenging me to claim differently. 

My lips pursed. I studied the exasperated male. His feathers were ruffled. Elle looked unbothered and only glanced between us with interest. Miryam shook her head though I had a feeling it wasn’t directed at me. “Sometimes hiding is the safest option. You have something good and untouched here. Wouldn’t you wish to keep this place that way?” The island was dreamlike. The saddest occurrence on this island was when the sun set each night and created a horizon so beautiful, it could force tears. Bringing this place into the war seemed like sacrificing a child. I wanted to leave this place to grow unburdened, especially not by the war I’d brought to its feet. 

I regretted my bitter words instantly. 

“We won’t sit by and watch others suffer. Your suffering is our own,” Miryam answered firmly. 

“Your people will fight?” 

“We will not force anyone but any who are willing, may join,” Drakon nodded his head. Though given the two, I had no doubt they’d achieve full participation. The pair had inspired countless uprisings among slave populations. They could inspire fully trained soldiers to rejoin the fight again. 

“So you’d wish to sail your fleet to Prythian? To fight Hybern?” I crossed my arms, yet to see this legendary fleet that sailed an entire army across the globe. 

“Mother _no_ ,” Drakon breathed out, drawing Miryam close. His arms were so long he could wrap them around her and still rest his hand comfortably along her stomach. She tucked neatly against him, even with her stomach separating them it didn’t look at all like an obstacle. “I’m not leaving Miryam until she delivers.” 

“We will sail the ships,” Elle interjected, nodding confidently. 

“We ask that you lead them,” Miryam added. 

My head snapped back.

“Don’t appear so flattered,” Drakon chuckled darkly, flashing obscenely white teeth. “You will return...to your mate, to these High Lords and we ask you to act in our interest as well. You will be sitting in on all the meetings if Rhysand is the same male I remember him to be. You know the battles waged on Prythian. You know of our island and can winnow past it’s wards. When the time comes for action, we ask you to lead us there.”

“I am...I am not a General,” I replied stiffly. 

Elle cocked her head, wings shifting in the breeze. They looked so fragile, not at all as powerful as Drakon’s. “No, we aren’t asking you to be. I am a General. So is Malcolm and Pia. You are a leader.” 

I didn’t know what I did to inspire such trust. I’d avoided them all, insulted them countless times and dismissed the entire island. I felt their faith was misplaced but I couldn’t fight their logic. They’d need someone who could go between Prythian and their island to guide them. “I shall try my best then,” I dipped my head. 

Drakon smiled and for the first time, I saw something warm in it. “Then let us get you some armor and a weapon before we send you off to fight.”

 **Rhysand:**

When I first met Feyre, time moved a little too fast. Just like all the visions I saw through her eyes, there was never enough. Each of our meetings following could be summarized as: too brief and too curt. I’d walk away feeling as if our meetings were destined to behave like sand or water, continuously slipping through my fingers despite how I might try to hold on. 

I wanted to learn more but Feyre was as attainable as my freedom back then. How my brain refused to operate correctly around her was even more aggravating. As both a daemati and High Lord of the Night Court, my magic made me adept at receiving large amounts of input and selecting that of highest import. Breaking into another’s mind was messy work after all. Especially since thoughts are usually given very little context and jumbled together; selecting the important notes like dreams or fears takes practice. With Feyre, I seemed to forget all my training and accept everything I could glean from her at once. An influx of emotions, thoughts and images that left me feeling breathless. 

Of course it didn’t help at the time she hated my guts and thought me akin to the dirt beneath her boot.

She was right _of course._

It left me with little to know her through and no time to gather more. I was a starving male and standing in her presence was like smelling everything I craved but could never taste. I’d grown used to longing over several centuries but not the type I experienced around her. The type that banished my training and stripped me of my carefully crafted mask to reach me at my core. Feyre was my future; this desperate knowledge consumed me. Without reason, I knew when I looked at her that there was no moving beyond her. I’d gone all my centuries alone to meet her and she was worth every second. 

And losing her was as catastrophic as losing my family had been. 

It was the failure to protect my mother and sister and the deception of a person I’d considered a friend. The shock of having misjudged someone so thoroughly and having to pick up the shattered remnants of that betrayal anyway, each piece of broken glass driving the lesson deeper. It was the tragedy of losing my cruel father only a pace from where I stood combined with succession to a title I never wanted. And resenting the isolation ingrained in my title and that gifted to me by the Spring Court. 

For those years that followed, I was particularly protective of Mor. She resented me for it but couldn’t argue. I was convinced I was destined to lose my family. Cassian and Azriel remained alive because they weren’t blood. Mor was the last of my family. It took several hard battles and near-death experiences to see she wasn’t going anywhere. Then Amarantha came and I thought my own name had finally been called.

When I saw those visions, sent to me by a human I’d never met, I knew fate wasn’t finished with me yet. Though I admit I never would have foreseen events turning out as they did. I accepted Feyre would be a part of my life but never within it. Once again, she was sand, slipping through my fingers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Where the first to fall lay,_

_What was stolen shall return._

Adriata used to be beautiful. I’d visited it several times and it only grew in my estimation. No amount of ice-laden stares laid against me by Cresseida or Varian could have convinced me they were cruel fae. Their masks were transparent when their hearts were plainly visible in the streets of Adriata. It almost begged me to ask them why they attempted the act. They loved their people. 

Cobbled streets met with clay stucco buildings and orange tiled roofs. Residents were encouraged to live in a communal fashion with several families within a single home which in turn fostered a well-knit culture. Festivals were abundant in all seasons, coordinated with the migrations of their various fish. With the ability to control the tides, Cresseida and Varian ensured the safety of their significant fishing population and added to the sense of protection felt by their people. 

Which is why when I looked over the rubbles that city had become, I could hear the earth screaming over the loss. Adriata previously encouraged me to bring Velaris out of hiding. Now, as I beheld the ash-coated ruin, I felt a sickening justification within myself. _Look_ , it said. _This is what becomes of those who let the world in._ Everything worth loving in the Night Court was kept well hidden lest it be taken or destroyed; as my mate, I should have known better than to think Feyre was beyond this tradition. 

I swallowed hard. It drove me crazy that Feyre’s sisters followed her footsteps of independence and freedom. However, unlike Velaris, they all were not mine to dictate and control. I closed my eyes as the headache built inside me. My first moment entirely alone to myself and I could only think thoughts that drove me to insanity. 

The only respite I’ve had has been that Feyre escaped. It felt exactly as it did when she completed the third trial right after she stabbed Tamlin and before Amarantha had launched from her throne to kill the woman I loved. Time had paused just then for a moment too long and I felt relief, Feyre had won, that was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge that victory is rarely won without sacrifice. 

As I stood before Adriata, awaiting my mate, it was impossible to keep those words from my mind. We all must lose at one point. Fate laughs at our plans and spits on our dreams but I had to thank Elain for keeping mine alive. Her letter drove away the doom I thought came with my love. 

I was glad this would be private. I rarely wanted an audience when I expected to fall apart. I believed Feyre would think much the same. The mating bond was silent within me but I strummed at it every so often, hoping to hear a response. 

I did so even as I prowled the woods surrounding Adriata. Elain had specified the city but there was much ground to cover and I wasn’t willing to miss my mate by chance. Hybern’s soldiers weren’t aware how close they walked besides death. I kept myself blanketed in the black of shadows under the trees with my magic drawn in so tightly, they’d have to touch me to sense it themselves. I was forbidden from entering beyond a certain limit, the wards still stood strong after all. The longer I walked aimlessly, the longer I worried if Feyre would winnow _within_ the wards. Her magic practically gave her limitless range. I reasoned to myself that sticking close to the ward would let me know if she did: I’d be able to sense it’s wavering or altogether shattering. If that were the case, I was glad I never dressed down after the day was gone. I kept my armor and my sword on me. It felt pathetic to undo the straps myself when I might need it later; when Feyre was with me, there’d been at least a reason to undress. 

My hands dug deeper in my pockets. The longer the night continued, the larger my worries became. Winter was halfway through and yet Adriata was merely chilly at night. If we were a couple hundred leagues north, that would change severely on the ice cliffs of the Winter Court. The scent of palm and ocean salt were scant in comparison to the ash and rot. They occupied the city to use it as a port and nothing more, leaving all those that they killed to decay in the same streets they walked. I eyed another of Hybern’s soldiers. I’d kill them all if it wouldn’t have meant endangering Feyre. I didn’t know what state she’d be in when she came. I tried and failed to prepare myself. I rehearsed hundreds of sentiments and they all fell flat. Nothing could be said that would erase her pain or calm the icy rage inside me. 

When she was first captured, I’d been consumed by my grief. It all changed when she escaped. Then I could focus my efforts on more useful goals like destroying Hybern and each of his soldiers. If she was hurt then they were all guilty. Each soldier I met on the battlefield could have been party to her kidnapping. They might have dragged her from ship to shore, cleaned up after her torture or even brought her a food tray. No matter how little, they’d all partaken. Another of Hybern’s soldiers walked by. I clenched my fist. My knuckles popped. _Fuck_ , I rolled my eyes. _Where was my sound barrier?_ If any of these fools had been half-conscious, they should have been able to pick out my heartbeat above their own. 

I could almost hear Az scoffing, knocking on my skull to check if my mind still functioned. I guess he had been right that I needed constant supervision. 

The soldier paused. He turned to inspect the woods. I stood three paces to his right and his brown eyes squinted right through me. Passed through me, over me and then onto the next section of woods. From the angle, I could see the long nose and narrowly set eyes. He had a pointed chin that made me want to break his jaw. 

I considered it. 

Until the iron-scented breeze passed my nose. Excitement coursed through me as the winds shifted with my luck. Something was beginning tonight and I knew my mate would be dead center of it. I inhaled deeply, attempting to find the lilac. 

The soldier most _definitely_ heard that. He whipped back to where I stood, squinting harder. Try as he might, my illusions were more powerful. But I wanted him to see me now. Slowly, I peeled back the layers of shadow until pieces of my silhouette came into view. I started with my eyes. Two violet orbs peering out from the blackness of the woods before an outline of my shoulders, my hair and finally the glint of my sword caught the moonlight. His terror coated the air thick with his mildew-scented sweat. I could pick apart our heartbeats as his ramped up and mine continued on, steady. I stalked closer to him. His neck and face muscles were taut until the skin lost its color, replaced by something that resembled the underbelly of a fish. His lips opened. So invested in his next words, I nearly lost track of time. I had to reach Feyre. 

He didn’t see my blade as it severed his head from the shoulders. I didn’t stay around long enough to watch his head drop. 

I raced through the woods, scenting the air to see where the strongest waft of iron came from. The ocean breeze confused my efforts. It was the lilac next that set my heart finally racing. I changed directions. I was climbing through the woods, towards the outskirts of the city where few homes existed. The further I moved, the more familiar the terrain became. I’d been here before. Feyre too. My ears were deaf save the blood rushing inside my body. We’d been here together. 

**Feyre:**

Winnowing was new but the advice was old. _Think of the place. Imagine. Smell it’s air. Feel the ground. See your surroundings._ Mentally envision prior to traveling. Experienced fae could winnow to new places but mostly, you needed to have already visited to be able to winnow there. It prevented getting lost or stuck in the in between. I shuddered to think what that would have been like. 

After Elle had given me a set of grey armor like hers, only from gambeson, and a dagger, I’d returned to the palace. I bathed again. It was a habit now that I clean myself multiple times. Returning home was not the exception. I barely noted the time I spent in the bath or walking the halls. I didn’t check for Jurian or Tamlin. My bare feet slapped the stone as I took the steps two at a time, my shoes dangling from my hands. My barely dry body soaked my tunic and pants. Wet rivulets streamed down my spine but I didn’t stop to see to my hair or take a single moment away from reaching my goals. I dressed quickly, not caring that my armor was still a little big for me. It wasn’t my armor. The dagger I held wasn’t my sword. _But this is all temporary_ , I smiled to myself. I was about to braid my hair but I stopped myself. The last and final piece were my earrings before I turned my attention to winnowing home. 

I picked the closest place I could to our island on the off chance my magic wasn’t strong enough. The first village south of Adriata, Pacifico. It was far enough under Hybern’s radar that he’d likely have it less guarded and familiar enough to use it as my target. I could still feel the wet squelch of mud beneath my feet, trudging up the hillside. Early fall, the air was still humid and only slightly cool. Rhysand’s citrus scent had dizzied my thoughts, alongside the disorient from winnowing. A small smile played at my lips. I remembered the night so fondly despite it being my introduction into a gruesome war. His eyes had been so foreign then, the purple altogether unreadable.

I tried to pick the memory apart for the details of Pacifico. Stuccoed houses set into a hillside that descended towards a white sand beach where waves lapped peacefully at the shore. Glass and remnants of a much better life littered the streets. Rooves threatened to collapse in on themselves. The white stucco walls were blackened from having burned for several days, taking anything flammable with it as smoke and ash. The bitter scent of death that had been relatively foreign to me but now was recognizable as my own mate’s. 

I saw the concern in his eyes as he told me more and more horrific facts of what we would face. I’d read it then as judgement, condescending and cruel but now I could see that it _was_ judgement just not for me. For Tamlin who kept us all in the dark. 

The thought fueled my magic. I heard sucking and followed by a slight whoosh, my body lurching to the side. I tensed instinctively to prepare for a strike. The air was neither cold nor hot, blowing my wet hair in all directions. I felt the ward of the island washing over me but I didn’t pause or slow, my magic rising to meet the ward as a friend before shuttling me outwards. I pushed my hands out, afraid I’d fall but I launched without pause in the darkness. 

And it was over before I drew my next breath. I carried no momentum but stumbled anyway when the world stopped suddenly. My foot caught on something hard but I righted myself easily. Grass expanded before me, brown from the cold temperature but nearly up to my knees. My eyes looked skyward. A cold breeze that chilled my wet skin ghosted the night air. The stars hadn’t changed throughout this journey but setting foot on Prythian again made my reaction more visceral. I swallowed hard and looked inward, for my mental walls. 

The hairs raised on the back of my neck. I turned in time to see the soldier before he could shoot. Winnowing into a field had not been my most strategic moment but as I’d just been newly indoctrinated to winnowing, I’d elect to forgive my misstep. In the blink of an eye I’d winnowed paces to my right to see the arrow sail past me. I’d only brought one _lousy_ dagger. Cassian would groan. A daring smile crossed my lips at the realization that I’d hear him groan soon enough. 

The soldier was already knocking the next arrow but my pride launched me forward. Whether he knew I was the Lady of the Night Court or not, he knew I would kill him and fear permeated the air well before I ever reached him. Forced into close combat, I sidestepped and drove the dagger upward, needling it through the break in his armor at his shoulder. I hit bone but my strength prevented me from dropping the knife. I pulled it out and brought it back down, this time into his neck. Hot blood streamed through my hands and when I stepped away, I pressed my eyes shut against the images that came with. The scent of iron was cloying. I was forced to stumble away from the still-dying male. He gurgled behind me as he drowned. He’d be dead soon. 

_When had this become natural?_ I paused, leaning against a barren tree at the edge of the clearing. My hands were cooling now, the blood coagulating and making them sticky. 

Sound caught my ear. _Footsteps._ I’d drawn the attention of some more fae. They were spaced out. Some sounded further away while others very close. I rose to meet them. None of them knew who they fought: they didn’t have the chance to inspect me for my tattoo. _Soon enough they’ll know you for your ears_ , I remarked dryly. I worked faster. As foot soldiers, it was only a matter of time before their bodies hit the ground. They couldn’t possibly match my strength, speed or stamina, all three gifted to me by the High Lords.

In moments, they were all corpses. What existed before, didn’t anymore. The tan grass glistened red in the moonlight. The iron made me sick to my stomach. I dry heaved, clenching my burning eyes tighter. I needed a place to hide, to get away. Their blank faces all haunted me now. I thought I’d gotten past this. They tortured me. _Why now do their unseeing eyes haunt me?_

Without even thinking, I’d called my magic back. I was already imagining the walls of my room, back on that nameless island that floated out in the sea, long forgotten. Already, I wanted to hide away until I could sort out the ugliest sides of me, these emotions that threatened to unravel me. All the responses of my body that was not my own anymore. I couldn’t explain any of what I felt, how could I possibly expect to meet my mate? My family? I was returning a wreck. Hot tears leached from my eyes though I tried my hardest to keep them inside. Unbidden, my finger traced the rough shell of my ear. 

My eyes reached for the night sky. I wanted answers for all of this but I was met with silence, stark and eternal. A thousand times I've gazed up at the stars and not once had they failed to calm me. Smaller flecks of white and yellow stood out brighter the longer I looked. No beginning and no end, just an endless tumult of color and beauty that flowed in equal proportion to the black oblivion. The balance of light and dark: not so obvious but present. 

I closed my eyes, sighing. My hands were nauseously sticky as I wiped them over my gambeson. My limbs were shaky. My body still wanted to flee, having grown used to the behavior of a caged animal. I shook my head as if to tell myself, _no, this is the part where we are brave._ I had no thoughts for what Rhysand would think of me but I prayed he’d see something still good. Lowering my mental walls, I called for my mate and opened my eyes back to the sky above.

**Rhysand:**

Feyre moved quicker than my eye could reasonably follow. Fluid. Sweeping graceful strokes even with a short, blunt dagger. Each step was purposeful as she drove her opponent back. She’d one dagger to her and neither sword, bow and arrow or knife could keep her back. She slipped between defenses like water through cracks, stepping within their guards easily. Nothing she did was reactionary: she commanded the fight from the moment she raised her blade. There was no hesitation or forethought, just the quick decisions of someone who wanted to win and win fast. Her opponents weren’t impressive in the least but there was a clear distinction in skill and cunning, my mate taking the lead on them all. Where before, she fought as she was trained, what I saw now was an instinctual movement built on keen reflexes.

I brought my hand to my mouth, covering the overjoyed laugh and half-choked sob too. Once again, seeing her was all too much and never enough. My heart pounded. My thoughts swirled in the scent of intoxicating lilac that I’d drown in if she’d let me. I wanted to thank someone, to scream. Out of all those I’d lost, I’d never expected one of them to return. 

Her unbraided hair spun around her as she moved, shorter than when I last saw her. It must have been cut. She wore an odd set of armor of grey I’d need to be closer to inspect more diligently. When she faced me, her eyes caught the moonlight like watery pools teeming with life. Her lips pressed firmly together, the time-honored sign of her focus and my lips twitched at the familiarity of the gesture. Besides for that, her face was curiously blank. I recalled brows furrowing as a popular reaction accompanied by grunts of exertion. Perhaps a few curses. Feyre was silent. Silent and lethal. I didn’t torture myself with wondering the source of these changes. 

My hand grabbed a tree for support and to hold me back. Having rushed south of Adriata to where it boarded Pacifico, I nearly stumbled as Elain’s letter came back to me. I couldn’t approach her yet. I had to stay where I was on the opposite end of the field. I hated myself for it but I shrouded myself within my illusions, even from my mate. If she stopped fighting, there was a good chance she’d sense the illusion but it was my half-hearted attempt anyway. I never wanted to keep away from her, like a phantom in the dark. We belonged together whether in the light or not. 

So I stayed still, watching my mate fight as my heart pounded. This time, I did remember my sound barrier. 

_ That which you reach for shall escape,  _

_ But that which you allow shall come to call. _

I recited the words when my will wore thin. It was thinner than mountain top air. I barely could contain my emotions, let alone my mind. I brushed the mental walls of my mind fondly knowing if I stepped beyond them there was no preventing me from reaching her. I bit my lip, drawing blood to focus on something other than the distance between Feyre and I. 

My ears flicked to hear her heartbeat. It slowed as all her enemies fell about her. Like a tempest coming to an end, the world stilled until only the breeze tossing free hairs into the wind moved her. Her blue eyes lost their gleam and without warning, she buckled over and heaved into the grass. I reached out but my feet were bricks, sinking further into the choices I made. 

_ That which you reach for shall escape,  _

_ But that which you allow shall come to call. _

I heard her soft exhalation, the gasp and sob too. Without warning, her magic swarmed her. Terror flooded my system and my wings appeared unbidden. Her emotions fell through the bond to me though her thoughts kept her from sensing mine. I was ready to launch myself at her though one of my hands attempted to hold me back. My shoulder socket protested the strain. Elain’s words were clear but the longer I watched my mate struggle, the more distant and meaningless Elain’s letter became. Only so long before I couldn’t excuse my inaction. 

I begged my mate wordlessly:  _ call to me, Feyre. Call.  _ Out of all the times she insisted on handling problems on her own, I needed her to give in this one time.  _ Call to me _ . Each day of her capture, accounts from Nesta and I both reported that Feyre insisted she’d escape herself. With straight posture and raised chin, she demanded our trust. Now that she was home, I wanted to tell her it was okay to be weak again. We were here.  _ Call to me.  _

She bit her lip. I’d seen my mate vulnerable but nothing as raw as the glossy eyes tilted towards the sky. The shallow breaths she took. I was captivated, eyes wide and taking in every minute detail I could before they escaped me. I collected and filed each one to assure myself they’d never leave me again. All the small aspects of my mate I’d been without these few weeks that I never wanted to leave me. 

Watching her in silence made me want to stay this way for a moment longer where she was finally within reach. Once I had her though, there was always the possibility she’d be taken again. But in this infinitesimally small moment, we were free from the cycle of loss. The words on my lips were formed without conscious thought:  _ go _ . If she left, she’d never be taken from me and perhaps that was how she was meant to be: free and safe. My hand on the tree relaxed to become steadying instead of restraining. I swallowed. 

Her shoulders sinking back while her posture reclined, the callous layers peeling themselves back. I watched each one shed themselves while she reached her decision. I reasoned I’d accept it, whatever it was. She was a High Lady but perhaps not meant to be  _ my  _ High Lady. 

_ Rhysand _ , her voice filled my mind. It was far softer than the last I heard it with a hundred unknown reasons that made it that way. My heart skipped painfully, the pressure on my ribs immense. I choked, clutching at my chest. Shock swept through me for a moment but that's all I allowed. My foot lifted but my nails dug into the tree, threatening to snap off while holding me back. Could I have imagined it?  _ Rhysand,  _ her voice came through again. This time it was steady but still quiet in my mind.  _ I’m _ , I heard the soft woosh of her breath. Her gaze turned skyward once more and I imagined she was searching for the outline of wings.  _ I’m here. In Pacifico.  _

_ That which you reach for shall escape,  _

_ But that which you allow shall come to call. _

My hand released the tree. My magic fell. I stepped from the treeline, moonlight catching the black steel of my armor and the still bloody sword I somehow still clung too. Time sped up once more as her chin lifted, no doubt scenting me on the wind. Her face turned to me next, eyes wide and mouth parted. My throat was threatening to close if my tongue didn’t choke me first. With hoarse words burdened by emotion, I spoke, “I’ve been looking for you.” My voice, even tempered, still sounded obstructive in the night. 

But it was real, just like Feyre was standing before me. 

My muscles were taut to the point I nearly shook. I wanted this to be true. I wanted her to be with me. I had difficulty accepting things as they were. My eyes never strayed from hers even when the world faded in my peripherals. We searched each other out with our eyes, our magic and our minds. Our meeting happened in slow a procession, like two streams converging on one another, until we were fully convinced we stood together. I could’ve been struck and I wouldn’t have noticed until she did as all my senses focused on her. The rest was all noise. 

Her magic was brighter than before. I was conflicted on what this meant. 

“I’m here now,” she replied, taking a step towards me. 

At her approach, I crossed the distance until only a few paces remained. Each step she watched me take with tightness in her neck and eyes. Her emotions were as jumbled as mine. All too much happened at the same time and my thoughts could never keep up. I was reaching for something intangible when she let out a shaky sigh. 

“There is so much, I don’t know where to begin,” she shook her head and raised a hand to her forehead. More lilac perfused into the air and my nostrils flared. The hope I felt around her returned without me calling it. There was a future within her, one that had room for me. 

I nodded tightly. I felt much the same. There was so much I did and did not want to know. How much did I truly care about now that she was here with me? There was nothing beyond the satisfaction of seeing her alive except for seeing her happy. All her stories could wait. I could wait for her to tell me them. “When you are ready,” I rasped. 

Pain flickered through her features, threatening to crumble her. “There is so much, Rhysand. I was away for too long. I don’t know...I don’t know where to begin now that I am back.” Now that I was close, her armor scratched at my memories. It was from the continent. I didn’t know what to do with the questions I had so I ignored them. I took in her blood-stained armor and bluntly cut hair in strides, sorting everything away for a time when the wound wasn’t so fresh. 

For the first time, I reached for her. Though our eyes never left one another, I could feel her senses focused on the approach of my touch but she didn’t shy away. My hand shook as I did like this moment would unravel. But it didn’t even as my palm cupped her cheek, cold and wet from the wind and her tears. There was warmth burning within. While I pressed my hand against her skin, she leaned into the touch. Her left hand rested over mine, newly formed calluses brushing against me to keep me from pulling my hand back. We fit so nicely. Her hair, still fine like silk, fell over my hand. “Where would you like to go?” 

Remaining in this field may have temporarily taken us from the world, stolen a private moment, but we were open. I could only handle so much vulnerability. 

Feyre exhaled shakily. “To our beach,” she breathed. 

I winnowed us there immediately. Gone was the brisk air of the Summer Court. It was replaced by the full winter of the Illyrian mountains that assaulted us. My wings flexed to keep the blood moving. Gusts of wind threatened to tip me over. The ocean shore was covered in a thin sheen of ice that cracked as waves still beat against the land. By no means was it a relaxed or peaceful night but my mate only tipped her face to the cutting winds and breathed in. Her cheeks were rosy in the cold but her face was content. We stood in a couple inches of snow and beneath that, the pebbled beach. It had become ours for all the times we needed to escape and this night was no different. There was a reason Feyre had not elected to return home, to Velaris, or to our family.

Her magic burned in the next moment. She radiated heat. Even the strong gales couldn’t stop her warmth from bleeding through my many layers. Once again, she’d changed in ways I couldn’t place or explain. In a way I felt I did the same. 

Cupping my hand once more against her cheek, her palm felt as if I had hovered my hands over an open flame. “I’m not sure how long I’ve been away,” she admitted, eyes downcast. She sniffed. “But for the past week, I’ve been on an island. West of Hybern and warded from the world. Prince Drakon and Miryam took their people there centuries ago. They’ve asked me to keep their location secret.” My eyes widened but I wordlessly motioned for her to continue at her pace with a reassuring stroke of my thumb against her cheek. “They...they’ve been healing me there. It took a while for my magic to return. I exhausted it when I broke through their wards to gain entrance.” 

“How is your magic now?” I asked softly, scanning her face. I meant the question to distract her from the pain caused by recollecting these memories. I didn’t know what yet to think of Prince Drakon and Miryam’s appearance. I was still shocked Feyre stood in front of me. I had so many questions. My feet itched to move and my wings flared incrementally, wanting to fly, but I forced myself to stay perfectly still with her. It was the world that spun out of control and my mate needed me to be steady for her. 

“Healthy,” she huffed a laugh that hurt me to hear. “But not the rest of me.” When her eyes met mine, there was a deep sorrow inside.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (03/01): this chapter was updated with 2 chapters because we can't survive off of saddness and thats the takeaway, promise it will pick up just gotta get these scenes out  
> (02/28): this chapter will likely be extended but if the next section is long enough, it might go on it's own.
> 
> Poisson Rogue by Saint Privat

**Rhysand:**

“Would you tell me?” I rasped, begging.

An impossible duality exists in my mind where Feyre is concerned. My instincts pulled on every one of my nerves in all directions with equal forces which rendered me motionless and inept to address any of them. How could I possibly contain these many emotions at once? My hands shook with both the desire to pull my mate close, cling to her and never let go. They shook with rage. Anger that saw no end until I’d succeeded in emptying this world of everything awful. My lips were firm, holding back words I wanted to say that would comfort her but also the countless apologies. How could I convey how empty I had felt without her and not make this situation worse? There was no place at the table for my pain where Feyre was concerned. Yet I needed her to understand that some of my reactions weren’t from her, they were from the ugliest part of me: finally reaching the surface. 

An accumulation of my guilt, ache and disgrace that had everything to do with my failure. The selfish need to claim responsibility. No matter how irrational it sounded, my heart would not let me rest for it truly believed that if I had _been there_ I could have changed the outcome. I knew myself capable of anything where Feyre was concerned. 

My lip still bled from biting it and I worried the flesh between my teeth. Feyre followed this. A few stray hairs blew with the wind and I coiled them in my fingers. Her hand over mine stilled the motion. “Rhysand,” our voices were hoarse but hers had turned reprimanding. I stilled, ready to pull back my hand when I realized what she was asking. _Focus._ Her hand pressed over mine, flattening against the side of her head. Beneath my palm, I felt her small ear. Tentatively, my index finger pushed back her curtain of hair to tuck it behind her ear but I could not. Her ear was shorn, tighter and closer. 

A fae’s ear was tipped. The helix extended out into an edge. Where Feyre’s ear had been cut, the helix was completely severed. This left the flat, round cartilage in its place, more like a fish’s gills. The cut was crude but not from hesitation but from one who had taken their time. I knew exactly what the message had been: once a human, always a human. In spite of the wound, my eyes fixated on her earring. Shock rang through me. I felt her shudder. The eight pointed star in gold, filled with an opal shining back at me. My hand left her ear to tip her chin to the other side. The diamond and silver moon winked. 

I’d had them remade for her, expecting them to be lost. I refused to wait for her return to have them made. I convinced myself she would return and I wanted to ensure her title, her position among my Court was never questioned. “How did you hold onto these?” I whispered, quietly amazed.

My eyes had zeroed in on the pieces that I hadn’t noticed Feyre’s eyes squeezed shut. They snapped open at my exclamation. “Do you not see my ears?” she whispered harshly. I didn’t know why we started whispering but to speak too loudly seemed an insult.

My voice trembled, trying to maintain an even tone when I so desperately wanted her to understand what I felt. “You escaped Hybern’s prison cell. You found our allies. You returned home.” Hybern would have sought to remove her identity. It was his favored tactic. He tried with me when I was his prisoner though far less consequential to him at the time than Feyre had been. To a prisoner, losing all sense of self was a death too. Those earrings were just objects, even without them Feyre was still a High Lady, but they were so much more now. They spat on everything Hybern ever attempted, laughing in the face of cruelty that she would keep her identity so close that he could never take it from her. 

My fingers tightened lightly on her chin. “Hybern tried to break you. I see his failure and your strength,” I nodded though her eyes were like glass. Tears pooling but not falling. 

“I don’t feel that way,” her voice broke. “I don’t feel strong. Or proud. Or whole,” she broke off eye contact to glance at our feet. I hadn’t noticed when her magic stopped perfusing the cold air but now my toes and fingers chilled. Her skin changed to ice. It paled like fresh fallen snow under the moonlight as she swallowed hard, holding back emotions though I felt them through our bond. 

“That’s okay,” I nodded. “You don’t have to be strong now.” Her eyes widened like she was outraged, nostrils flaring but there was no anger in my mate. Just her disbelief and confusion. I raised both my hands where she could see them while they moved to clasp her shoulders. She was solid but I wasn’t fooled. 

**Lucien:**

It took far longer for the rest to notice Rhysand’s absence. Normally, I would have thought them careless but I knew better. Elain held them all. She radiated this disorienting light like she worked a spell to capture them. It wasn’t that she released a single drop of magic but the magic of the unknown. No one could resist the lull: the immense and all-consuming desire to know what comes next. She fed them details that she crafted and they were all drawn in by her promise. 

She reclined more the longer she spoke underneath my hand. Her soft pink robes encouraged the ethereal glow wafting off of her. Her hair curled wildly down her back, slightly damp from our bath earlier. It’d almost made us late but the bath was unavoidable. After trekking up and down the Andros, the two of us were covered in mud and sweat and Elain had unearthed a whole shrub to take home with her. It took me a moment but it was the same plant I’d gifted her when Graysen broke off their engagement. We’d rushed back to clean up and our fast pace had set fire to her anxiety. At first, she was consumed by nerves and worries but that slipped away. Her skin warmed where I touched her. 

I thought Helion would disapprove of my Autumn Court magic but he never mentioned it. I knew he sensed it. His magic made him attuned to all magics. He kept his face carefully neutral and when my magic permeated the air, he shifted back in his seat. I thought he meant to get away but he didn’t move at all afterwards. It was my mother’s magic but I wondered how much he cared for that side of her, the side that Beron tried to destroy so his magic took precedence. Helion loved my mother but I wondered if he loved all of her too and if that was why she broke her vow to Beron. If that was why she’d gifted Helion those chrysanthemum’s because only Helion could love and accept all of her. 

She wasn’t meant for Beron. It was my aunt, her eldest sister, that had been engaged to Beron. Juliette wasn’t even betrothed to any male of import. She was young and considerably wild because of the freedom her lack of status afforded her. As unbehaved as a Lady in the Autumn Court could be only to be thrust into the highest position there was accompanied by the death of her two older sisters. Though my relationship with my half-brothers was the exact opposite, my Lady mother and her sisters were fiercely close. They sacrificed their lives so my mother could live. She’d never explained why they chose her to live while they stayed behind to give her escape more of a chance. 

When I was born, it’d already been centuries since my mother used her magic to its fullest potential. We were all trained by my father and the highest ranking warriors in the Court. As a rule, all fae childlings with magic learn to wield it. Though once the fae becomes of age, they get separated on gender and learn to use their magic as appropriate. From what little I heard, my mother’s magic was less controlled than what was expected of a Lady. Of course we never knew how deep her magic ran because in the Female’s Court, forest fires and wielding fire like a weapon were not appropriate. However, as Helion pointed out, no one suspected my true birth because my magic ranked equally with my siblings. No one thought the Lady of the Autumn Court would match her husband in raw power, especially when the most she used it for was to reheat her tea. 

“Where did Rhys go?” Azriel asked, drawing all eyes to the suspiciously empty chair. I admit, I thought the Shadowsinger would have noticed leagues earlier but it only made me more proud of Elain. 

“He will return,” Elain responded evenly, once more all eyes returned to my mate but with significantly different looks. The spell unraveled. 

“Did you purposefully distract us?” Azriel asked, voice quiet and low. His eyebrows slightly furrowed. I imagine shock was an unfamiliar sensation to a Spymaster, especially when Elain was behind it with her deceptively open demeanor. I couldn’t determine if he was in outrage or awe. 

“Would you have let him walk away if I had not?” she asked softly. She didn’t sound like a Seer anymore. Her voice was heavy with honesty, imbued with her empathy. He shook his head slowly, biting his lip. 

“Don’t tell me Rhys is in the wind too,” Cassian groaned. “Elain-” 

“He went to meet Feyre?” Azriel asked, silencing whatever Cassian was about to say. Eyes flicked between Elain and I. Even Helion got a few questioning glances but he had a content and guiltless look about him, like he’d walked into this tent but a moment ago and was pleased to find the entertainment was free. 

Cassian rose from the table, nearly flaring his wings and launching through it’s ceiling. Surprisingly, he’d done so and avoided jostling Nesta and Mor on either of his sides. “Two of our family cannot be lost to us tonight. Elain, you should have told us.” 

“She must tell you nothing,” I retorted immediately, earning a glare. 

“We’ll be the judge of that when it’s _our_ High Lord and Lady,” Cassian snapped. Nesta was staring at the table with furrowed brows, working something quietly out. 

“If you think we’d gamble with Feyre or Rhysand’s lives then you’re out of your mind,” I shook my head. Elain and I had existed outside the Night Court for a long time and I thought the matter was resolved. I’d assumed since Rhysand hadn’t torn my memories away about Velaris that these issues would fade into the background. I ground my teeth. 

Cassian snarled, eyes returning to the empty chair that used to be Rhysand’s. His hand rested on Nesta’s shoulder like he was ready to pull her from the table to get to me. The tent became warmer by the second. Elain rested her hand over mine, thumb rubbing over my knuckles. I felt her gaze but I didn’t break away from Cassian’s to see what she needed. She was calm but my heart pounded. 

“Children,” Helion raised his hand. Both Cassian and I glared at him then. Helion did make us all look like infants as one of the oldest High Lords but that didn’t help, it only grated on us further. “We are not enemies here.” 

Helion was about to speak some more but Nesta had made up her mind. She looked back to her sister, “Then where did they go?” Whether Nesta knew she interrupted Helion’s thought or even cared, she forged onward completely heedless. Helion’s quirked smile was deceiving in how flippant it made him appear. I’d yet to hear if he realized Nesta wore my wards. Now that she had his full attention, I’d most definitely be questioned later on their presence. “And why aren’t they here?” 

Elain swallowed and shook her head softly. It was Mor that spoke though, “As much as we try, we can't keep them from acting in our best interests. Even if that means keeping us in the dark." 

**Rhysand:**

Feyre’s hand held mine where it clasped her shoulder. “I feel as if I should start spilling my guts but I don’t know where to start,” she repeated. Both of us contained so much we wanted to say and my tongue clung uselessly to the roof of my mouth. The more I tried, the more I realized how incredibly inept I was at dealing with my mate’s pain. I could suffer my own but not hers. The hesitation in her eyes killed me just as much as her refusal to relax. These responses weren’t directed at me, this I knew well, but it made me long for the days before. I hated what had been done to my mate, for how it made her sharper. I’d once told her to love her human heart and I wanted to spit on my previous self. It lured her into trouble and traps and I loved her for it even when it hurt her. 

“There is nothing you cannot say to me but there is nothing I will make you say,” she opened her mouth to speak but I shook my head. “I am your mate regardless of what we share.” I had no idea what I wanted to know, if I even wanted to know. Once the words fell, I’d know if it was a mistake or not. There was a plethora of my past I never wanted to share. Feyre largely was unaware of my roles in the last war, my imprisonment and my position under Amarantha’s care. If I could keep my wounds hidden, then so could Feyre. Until we were ready. 

My eyes hovered over her earrings and peace swept through me. I let go of my breath. I eased back to my heels and as I did, Feyre responded in kind. Her heart slowed in my ears. She licked her lips, a faint smile coming to flit on them for a brief moment. “Miryam is pregnant.” I watched Feyre’s smile expand. “I didn’t know she was...she...Miryam was my healer and I didn’t know the entire time. Not until earlier,” she shook her head. 

“How would you know?” I shrugged, my thumb tracing a heavy black stitch on her grey gambeson. Her strange dress made sense now. It was sourced from the continent but changes were made to fit both seraphim and fae needs. The tunic part was longer to fit the torso of a fae but the back had stitches where wings would slip in and out. A seraphim need only cut the stitch to fit the shirt on. 

“I didn’t know Drakon at first. He didn’t know me either so I guess that’s fair,” she shook her head. “But I don’t exactly like your choice in allies.” 

I raised my brow. A hint of a smile. Something in the vagueness of her words struck me. There was something she knew not to speak of just yet, reasons unknown to me but when I felt the fear filling my throat, my eyes went back to her earrings. Feyre was my High Lady. “And do I want to know what Drakon did to sink in your esteem?” 

Her eyes were alive again, bright with some unspoken taunt. _There you are_ , I almost breathed. “Not if you want their ships in the coming war.” 

“Their ships?” I repeated dumbly. “Drakon wants to join the war?” this information might have struck me off my feet if Feyre didn’t also hold fast to me. Her fingers sought out mine. Her mouth opened, like she might call me back. Warmth filled me from her concern, echoing over the bond. “Drakon wouldn’t leave Miryam pregnant.”

“He won’t. His three generals will fight for him.” I made a noise like I understood. It seemed rather rash. Drakon must have felt compelled to join and looking at my mate, at what information she sat on tightly, I wondered what she had to do with that decision. _Drakon, what have you done?_ I was elated by the idea that Drakon and Miryam were no longer lost to me; however, I couldn’t quit the nagging sensation that this was not so seamless. “He’s asked me to lead his fleet. Not really command,” she added quickly. “But to give them the directions needed, it seems, to get to the right place.” 

Now I really wanted to know what Feyre had done. Curiosity overwhelmed my senses. Feyre sensed this but her lips only twitched in what could have been her guilty smile. “Now do I dare ask what _you_ have done?” I lifted my left hand to trace the soft curve of her jaw, leaving a stroke of heat in its wake. She swallowed and I brought her chin up, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what I have done to deserve you and I never will but I am so grateful.” 

“Rhysand…” 

I slipped my arm with hers and wordlessly, we walked together while she put her thoughts and feelings in place. I, myself, felt scrambled as well. I fought for the right words but I felt it would always fall short as I’d missed the battle. Feyre survived it and I was looking at what remained. In a pleasing way, her arm wove tightly around mine. Her tension was gone but she refused to loosen her grip on me. 

“How are Nesta and Elain?” she asked quietly, eyes focused on the snowy path ahead. “Did...Nesta ever mention-” 

“Nesta was with you,” I reassured her. Nesta shared what she willed. I didn’t have to clarify that Nesta kept some pieces private. Even her steel eyes and stern features couldn’t hide the pain at what she watched and refused to share. It was a mercy that I was glad she partook in. 

“That's good,” Feyre breathed in tightly as if she was also trying to convince herself. 

“Elain has been with Lucien in the Day Court,” it was my turn to reveal. “I admit I wasn’t as happy with Elain when you were taken from me,” the words, once loosed, flew like arrows. Feyre’s head snapped to look up at me, curiously blank eyes regarding me with prenatural stillness. I ducked my head. “I didn’t tell her soon enough I didn’t blame her and I fear that contributed to her returning to the Day Court.” 

“Blame her?” Feyre echoed.

“For whatever part she had in your imprisonment.” 

“She tried to keep me from that. I don’t think she had all the pieces yet but she tried. If I’d had listened to her or not, it would not have changed the outcome,” Feyre replied evenly after pausing a moment. “But they are safe in Velaris now?” she strained when she mentioned our home. 

There was no avoiding the truth. “Nesta has been in the war camps for a week and Elain has accepted her role as a Seer, she’s been advising others for some time.” 

“Nesta _returned_?” Feyre raised an eyebrow. 

“After she visited with the Human Queens to retrieve the Book of Breathings.”

Feyre’s eyes widened and her grip tightened incrementally but she kept her thoughts private. The waves breaking on the icy shore overwhelmed us both for a moment. How could so much happen and why was it all so difficult to convey? “Was she convincing?” she asked after a moment. 

“It was thoroughly disturbing for me,” I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. 

Feyre grinned fully. “Doubly so for my sister.” 

“Your sisters have decided they didn’t want to hide. Elain is a known Seer. Nesta is known as fae but Lucien has hidden her magic with a ward.” When Nesta wore her ward, it was like someone threw a wet blanket over a campfire. I could smell the smoke but found no flame. To test it, Lucien and I had prodded her magic for all we were worth and all we received was a bone-chilling glare leveled on us by Nesta and the promise of violence from Cassian. I didn’t remember when the two stopped arguing with each other and united against the rest of us. Now, I had a feeling future arguments amongst our family would be much more difficult to win. 

“It was bound to happen. We can’t hide everything in Velaris.” 

“I can damn well try,” I grumbled. As far as I was concerned, Nesta could have made a home in whatever quarter of the city she wanted as long as it kept her out of anyone’s grasp. I knew Elain and Lucien were mates but I didn’t see why Elain needed to live in the Day Court _now_ . I thought humans enjoyed extensively long betrothals despite their short lives. I glanced at my mate and shrugged, _perhaps not all customs should stay._

My next admission made me stop walking altogether, pulling Feyre in front of me. She cast a questioning glance over me but I couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes. I brought our clasped hands between us. Her fingers were long and delicate like a faes but the palms heavily calloused with a few scrapes evident. “Nesta was attacked once. When she reunited the pieces of the Book, it shattered Lucien’s ward and Hybern found her.” Feyre’s hands in mine trembled. 

“What happened?” 

“It was Dagdan who found her.”

“Rhys-”

“She killed him before he could even hurt her. She’s safe. Cassian was more shaken, I think, than Nesta,” my words felt empty. No explanation would have sufficed for my failure. “I...I don’t know what would have happened if she had been taken.” 

“How did she kill him?” Feyre asked, sidestepping my botched apology. 

“Near burned the flesh from his throat.” 

“Is she okay?” 

“Cassian said so,” Nesta wouldn’t exactly confide in me. She was more inclined to glaring and stoic silences followed by pointed comments. But for Feyre’s sake, I wish she had just so I could give my mate more than single-sentence answers. “She said...she said _you_ killed Brannagh.” 

“I did,” Feyre admitted, ducking her head.

I tentatively tucked a curl behind her ear. She glanced away but all it did was draw her ears more clearly into the moonlight. Bloodlust was normally a term I’d associate with the excited energy that Cassian met the battlefield with. I thought it now also applied to the yearning inside me to peel my enemies minds back and withdraw their darkest fears and secrets. I wanted them to know as I dug around as well, snipping their memories from their mind and selecting what pieces of them they could keep for the moment. I didn’t want them to die until they wanted it themselves and only after I had broken them so thoroughly nothing but fear remained. These were the urges that threaten to overwhelm me. They were only placated by the equally fervid desire to see my mate cared for, safe and happy. 

“There are wounds I am still healing,” she said, pulling me to walk besides her. 

**Nesta:**

Cassian walked with me back to our tent. We stayed quiet the entire way back. He’d at first thought I’d prefer to keep my own tent but I quickly dismissed those notions. After Dagdan’s attack, he never brought up the subject again. “I didn't like you accusing Elain,” I said once we were safely tucked away inside. His tent was a little more spacious than Rhysands because it had to make room for all the battleplans, past and future. I thought them to be slightly decorative but after watching Cassian tear through them, I’d corrected that assumption. 

Cassian sat at his desk, leaning to unlace his boots. “Because she's your sister?” he asked, eyeing me as I sat on our bed. He thought to bring a larger bed but I liked the proximity. 

“Because you knew you were wrong,” I reached my arms behind my back to unbutton my dress. The dress was highly impractical but I couldn’t shrug years of ingrained behavior. Though Cassian asked if I wanted to dress otherwise, my time with Madja didn’t require me to wear trousers. Feyre might find them liberating but I found the added fabric to be the opposite. 

“Elain disappeared Rhysand,” Cassian challenged, reaching for his armor. 

I slipped out of my dress to my shift and crossed to help. Any other day I’d be cold but my magic was with me today. I hadn’t touched the Book so it burned inside me.

His armor took me a while to get the hang of but I could now buckle him in as well, knowing when the armor fit right. “I wasn't aware your High Lord was a child. Someone should really rectify that,” I muttered, jerking hard where one buckle was holding fast. 

Cassian tilted his head up, looking up at me, “He is your High Lord as well Nesta.” 

I ripped harder on the buckle until it gave way, “He is my nothing. You are my mate but I've sworn no vows,” I ground out. “Did you think Elain would so willingly endanger Rhysand? That she didn't feel Feyre’s loss more than we all did?” 

“It's not the same Rhysand needed to be watched over,” Cassian caught my hand before it could leave his armor. The other helped to shrug off his plate but he pulled me to stand between his knees. His hazel eyes arrested mine with sincerity. He brought my fingers to brush against his lips. Under an hour ago, they’d rested on my shoulder only an impulse away from tearing me backwards so he could fight Lucien. I had forced calm into my blood to keep him from losing himself in his instincts, worried my own might bleed into his like it used to. Now that he knew about the mating bond, I thought he could differentiate between our emotions but I still worried how much he could glean from me. 

“No longer,” I shook my head, though my voice went soft at his appealing tone. 

“And who can really judge that, Nes?” he asked quietly, bowing his forehead against my hand. 

I flicked up a brow. “My sister with her Seeing eye is far more equipped than you and our stubborn family,” I retorted. Though I did my best to keep Elain’s visions from capturing my future, I trusted Elain would know what was best. If any of them had seen her tend to the many injured birds she’d found, they would know. As a training healer, I was beginning to appreciate. Elain had a delicate touch that could only get so soft from someone who didn’t know how to be cruel. If there were a person who knew what would be in our best interest, it would be Elain and they would have to get over their Court differences. 

Cassian rose to his full height, wings flaring a little. He snaked his head so my eyes forced to follow the swaying movement. It was distinctly predatorial. The excited blaze of his eyes like a sunset over a wood. I backed up but his hands had captured mine, ensuring our chests near pressed together. Heat pooled inside me anyway from the waves of satisfaction he sent across the bond. I thought I’d never get used to feeling his emotions as well as my own but they so rarely clashed, it just intensified inside me. He breathed in deeply of our combined scent. 

There was something obvious about how I smelled. The Illyrians who came to the healers tent would sniff once before blanching. I bathed regularly and they all had the same instantaneous reaction anyway. I suspected Cassian’s hand in that but hadn’t discovered where or how he claimed me. Something with scent and yet not from our intimate behaviors at night. 

I narrowed my eyes as he backed me up towards the bed. 

He smiled "So…” he dragged out, alight with interest and pleasure. The curve of his smiling lips promised mutual enjoyment. “Rhysands not your High Lord but he's your brother too?" My nostrils flared and I stiffened. I’d said _family_ afterall. Of course he’s proud. “Nes, accept it. This is your Court,” he leaned down to one knee. “And this is your home,” he put down the other, tugging my hands to sit on the bed before him. “And we are your family,” he grinned.

I shivered when I wasn’t cold. He saw that as well. He placed a hand under the bend of my knee, guiding it over his shoulder. He still smelled strongly of sweat and cedar and a host of other immensely unpleasant scents but they combined intoxicatingly in my nose. His other hand pushed my shift up to bunch around my hips before he lowered his head to my core, nostrils flaring. My cheeks heated the longer he gazed, eyes meeting mine with glee. 

He swept his tongue over my lips, watching my head tilt back. A moan caught on my lips. I was always careful to be so quiet in the camps. Though he assured me otherwise, I had the worst fear of being discovered like this. I must preferred the privacy of his bedroom in the House of Wind. 

Another press of his tongue brought my thoughts back. I collapsed from my elbows onto my back. I clasped my hand over my mouth. I still had my corset on underneath and the longer he licked, the more constraining it felt. My chest heaved. He had this habit of working me until I was close to coming before shifting pace, delaying satisfaction. He drew it out until I was near to begging. I thought that was what he liked most. 

My other hand bunched in his loosely tied strands of black hair, gripping tight. Whether he felt it at all, pain or pleasure, he repaid the favor in double. His finger slipped inside me. From over the rumpled waves of my shift, I met his eyes like molten pools of honey. He was smiling indecently, uncaring that he made obscene noises that furthered the heat in my cheeks. He mumbled something into me, the low vibrato echoing through me. 

“Hm?” I moaned, tilting my head back. I saw light behind my eyelids. My magic was too close to the surface where Cassian was concerned. I wanted to close my thighs together as the sensation built but he spread me open. His one hand resting on the inside of my thigh. His thumb idly stroking the sensitive skin. His finger lazily slid inside me at a pace that was so slow, it was tortuous. He knew this well. In him, I wanted pleasure and completion among a host of other wonderfully sinful needs and he enjoyed drawing that out. He watched me come undone with pride, committing my unraveling to memory. 

Gasps caught in my throat. He mumbled again but this time, he’d inserted a second finger. The bedding was wet beneath my ass. I thought Cassian was only encouraged by it. His tongue swirled my clit with unrushed strokes, in pace to his fingers. His hand on my inner thigh squeezed. I bit my hand hard to keep the cries buried. My other hand in his hair might have pushed him closer to my lips or tried to pull him away. I was undecided if what he did to me was considered sacrilege or worship. Only when the words formed in my throat, begging, praying and demanding for completion did he let me finally reach it. My back bowed painfully, corset digging into my skin. Cassian held me still to his frame with one capable hand splayed over my thigh and the other anchoring me to him from within. 

When I could open my eyes, I had to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. I breathed hard. I didn’t care if I was the only sound in the room. Sensation past my hips had gone numb besides for the weeping of my core, chilling against my skin. I glanced down at my confident mate whose ego had just grown sizably. He laid his cheek against my wet thigh to kiss there. His lips and stubble coated chin glistened in the candlelight and my cheeks burned but I felt more pride than embarrassment. “I said,” he rasped, licking his wet lips. “And you’re my mate.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (03/02): depending on what plot line I write next, this chapter might be updated or I'll make a new one. So, lets all catch our breath and appreciate the coming storm. 
> 
> Love and Hate - Michael Kiwanuka   
> Muddy Waters - LP

**Rhysand:**

She looked down to our feet again, her hand resting on her hip softly. “Miryam had been seeing over my healing,” she repeated. “She didn’t think it wise for me to return yesterday since my magic had just returned.” 

“And waiting a day was your way of resting?” I chided softly, hint of a smile. The wait was torture for me. Each day that passed made the next one look even more promising that I’d be reunited with Feyre and when that never came, the disappointment threatened to crush me. But for her health I’d wait. I was pleased she wanted to return to me so direly but flinched at what motivated her. Was it because she’s my mate, that she loves me, or feels compelled to? 

“I hated staying away,” she sighed. “I thought it’d be simple. Escape. Return home to you,” she shook her head. Her footsteps became heavier for the moment, crunching loudly in the snow. She wore boots that I hadn’t seen in centuries, loose and roughly foot-shaped but bound to the foot with a few leather ties around the ankle. She looked entirely different, dressed in the gray gambeson armor, loose-fitting tunic and trousers beneath. Her unbound hair almost made her unrecognizable so far it was from her normal singular braid down the back of her head. “Now we have a naval force that I’ll need to...address,” she sighed, sounding tired. 

I had no experience on ships. It was likely the only aspect of warfare Cassian was weak in. The Night Court didn’t have a navy. The only Court that did was the Summer Court and Hybern had targeted them specifically for that reason. It left the waters unchallenged. Hybern demonstrated the usefulness of dominating the seas as he sailed up the Andros, set fire to the land and vanished down the river. 

Having a navy would be a distinct advantage. Especially if Hybern didn’t know we possessed one. Afterall, to retake Hybern itself, we’d need to sail there or expend energy winnowing all our troops at once. I thought in the beginning of the war that if we defeated Hybern on Prythian, it would leave Hybern undefended but with how many forces he possessed, I knew that would never be the case. The only way we were going to defeat Hybern is by breaking the three pillars of his strength: decimate his army, nullify the Cauldron and retake the island of Hybern. As for the King of Hybern, only a public and painful execution would suffice. 

Feyre let out a harsh laugh. “I think I’d rather lead Drakon’s navy more so than face the High Lords.” 

I cracked a smile. I’d rather fight a three-day long battle than return to another High Lord’s meeting. Luckily, the progress in the Andros made the meetings scarce but they’d return the moment we set our sights on retaking Adriata. “Since we have moved the war camps, you haven’t had to miss many meetings.” She looked up, raising a brow. “The Autumn, Summer and what remains of the Spring Court are camped along the Andros. They’re retaking the territory. Our forces with the Winter and Day Court are camped in the Relaran Pass.” It was implied we shared the Dawn Court’s healers though the Night Court retained many of their own for Illyrians. 

“That makes the war camps infinitely more pleasant,” she joked half-heartedly, eyes downcast. Mentioning the Spring Court was unavoidable but it brought our thoughts back to our pain once more. Her arm tightened around mine. “You once said I shouldn’t hate my... _ human  _ heart,” she looked up at the sky. It was cloudy tonight so the stars were hidden but the pale glow of the moon permeated the clouds. It was going to snow soon. The air was heavy with humidity. I could smell the ice from the northern winds gathering and I pulled Feyre closer to my side, dreading where she was heading though I had the same thoughts. “I think the last thing Cassian said to me before was I’d a soft heart,” she laughed breathlessly, a hiccup following her words. “And you both were right. It was Tamlin, he was the spy. He...he gave up the refugee camp and fed Hybern intel. The only thing he did right was he never told Hybern about my magic so when they fucking hung me on a wall, thinking simple wards would hold me, I could break free.” Her nails dug into my bicep, eyes wide while she recalled it. I winced at the mention of her confinement. I glanced at her shoulders where wounds were surely still healing though I didn’t know how her Dawn Court magic would behave. Then, softer, “It was him from the beginning and I was too fucking naive to see it.” 

Something wormed its way through my memories, bubbling up. Something that bothered me from the beginning. My brows furrowed and not for the first time, we paused in our walk along the beach. I revisited the numerous battles in the Spring Court and the one time I’d been injured. My lips parted. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasped out, mistaking my shock. Her chest shook and tears finally spilled over her pale cheeks. I stared at her in horror. Realization gripped me and pulled me under a sea of regret and resentment that came with hindsight. As her sobs mounted, her face reddened. Stray hairs blew about her face in the wind. “I should have killed him the moment I suspected but I  _ hesitated  _ and it’s my fault I was taken.” I remained silent, my thoughts flying by me so fast I barely could hear her words. Roaring filled my ears like I was readying to winnow somewhere that I could scream and fling my magic out just to ease the pressure threatening to crush me. “Rhysand? Say something.” 

“I thought I heard you say my name,” I uttered, voice devoid of emotion and eyes fixed on her neck. Like I could see right through to the notch where it had broken. 

“What?” she shook her head, hands shaking mine slightly. “What are you saying? Rhysand?” 

I gulped. My stomach roiled. Disgust pooled there. “In the Spring Court. When I fought General Mahon,” my wings drew in close to my back as shivers raced up and down my spine. “I...I thought I heard you call my name. I was so sure of it that I’d lost focus, I would know your voice anywhere.” I still had the scar on my left bicep, right where Feyre held, to show for my mistake. The faebane-tipped arrow silenced my magic and forced Feyre to take my position in reclaiming the Book from Adriata. I’d never revisited that moment, thinking it was my fear getting the better of me and never feeling the noose even as it tightened about my neck. 

When I met Feyre’s eyes, I saw no shock. They were flat against mine. These were thoughts she’d faced for the past few weeks: the depth of Tamlin’s deception that almost killed us both. 

“It was my mistake,” I whispered. Her teeth groaned under the tightness of her jaw. “It was my mistake that sent you to Adriata.” If I hadn’t lost focus, abandoned centuries of training in that one moment how might have things turned out? Would Tamlin have delivered me right to Hybern instead of my mate? I know which I would have preferred. The day Feyre publicly became my mate, I knew my enemies would seek to destroy me through her. I thought their past relationship would keep Tamlin at bay and had been so thoroughly mistaken. A mistake she nearly died paying for. 

“You let an arrow hit you attempting to protect me,” she stated. “I hesitated when Tamlin revealed himself to be a traitor. I’ll not make the same mistake again.” 

“Again?” 

“Tamlin is alive. When I escaped, I escaped with Tamlin and Jurian.” 

I should have seen Tamlin’s survival immediately. If Tamlin had died, Feyre would have returned High Lady to the Spring Court. But once again, my mind refused to see what was right before it. Jurian’s resurrection came as a shock but considerably less so. I wondered what centuries as a piece of jewelry had done to his mind. “And they are on this island?” I asked quietly. Feyre’s touch was the only thing keeping me grounded. I couldn’t break their wards and I had no idea as to this island’s location and yet I’d claw my way to Tamlin’s throat and rip it out old-fashioned. As his primary method of murder, I thought it’d be symbolic. 

Feyre nodded. “Drakon didn’t trust Tamlin or Jurian not to reveal their location.” Something about the calm collect with which she said either of their names grated on me. I thought there would be more disgust present but I only heard indifference. Her anger had been channeled somewhere else which left me to drown in my own. 

_ Drakon retained his senses for certain.  _

Another horrifying thought. “And you plan to return to this island?” 

She swallowed. “If I am to lead them.” 

I looked skyward again, praying for some guidance. My instincts told me to hold on tight and never let her go. I didn’t want my mate to leave my side. I just got her back after all but my hands might have been covered in oil. The harder I held her, the faster she’d slip through. My instincts hated this but I was firm. 

Tamlin couldn’t die. I knew this logically but my hands twitched anyway. Logic was far from my mind. 

I prided myself in an even-temper. Azriel, of course, was the most reserved but Cassian lost on every account. Even when I was young, I wasn’t known to be angry. Now my rage was infinite and so thoroughly worthless with the realization it would go nowhere. There was no punishment that would ever be severe enough. My hands snaked around my mate, greedy and searching with a need I’d never be able to satisfy. She stiffened but then folded herself against me, welcoming the touch.  _ He’d caused that flinch _ , I thought bitterly. I bit my tongue and iron coated my mouth. She tucked her head against my chest, ignoring my ice-cold breastplate. Her hair tickled my nose. Her hands lifted to grip the edges of my plate as if to anchor herself there. I wove my fingers through her hair. 

“He won’t hurt us anymore,” Her lips mumbled against my skin and my knees nearly buckled. Feyre pressed her now-warm face against my neck, using my wings and body as shelter from the encroaching storm. Her grip on my armor told me she was well aware how her proximity impacted me, and her as well, and that she welcomed it. 

“How?” I asked but it came out as a croak. My throat was dry. My anger was burning me up from the inside. All the pain Tamlin had caused me, I should have ended his life centuries ago. _Damn the consequences_ _and the war that would have followed._ My mother. My sister. Amarantha. Now my mate. All of them had been tied to Tamlin. Feyre might believe herself truly responsible but she hadn’t been alive long enough to change the direction of this storm. 

“He can’t. I’ve forced him not to. I couldn’t walk away knowing he might just...return to his home as if nothing ever happened. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would have been enough without the guarantee that he can’t hurt us or our family anymore.” 

I squinted down at her. “You made a bargain.” It wasn’t a question. The only other option was warding Tamlin and while my mate was talented and had a knack for surprising me, I didn’t think she’d reached that skill yet. The only fae I knew who could effectively ward another was Helion. 

She nodded, her eyes were far away as she looked at the turbulent ocean. “He can’t hurt me, you, our family or our Court,” she listed off. “He regains his land and his people but his decisions are mine.” Effectively making Feyre the High Lady of two courts. 

“And what did you give him?” 

“Forgiveness, redemption...his life.” 

I held her tighter. Bitter coated my tongue. I’d spit venom if I didn’t hold her. “Ask Drakon if I can step foot on this island.” 

“Rhysand,” she breathed, sinking against me. 

“Drakon won’t leave Miryam, not pregnant,” I blanched at the thought of leaving Feyre after this. If she was pregnant, I’d not let her from my sight. My instincts told me all my control would be nothing compared to the real compulsion I’d feel then. 

“What do you need?” her voice was beseeching. Such a strong desire in mates to see to one another’s needs. Just the act of providing brought satisfaction that made others pale in comparison. Though Feyre couldn’t provide me this one requirement because she wasn’t the one I was angry at. 

“I need to look in his eyes,” I needed to know if he understood. To make such a heavy-handed bargain, he must have but I needed to see it for myself. Summoning my courage, I released my tight grip on my mate. If I didn’t do it quickly, I’d never do it at all. She didn’t unfurl from me for a long moment. 

“It might take some time,” she warned, eyes searching mine. Her hands still clasped mine. She didn’t want to leave. I didn’t either. My body wanted to hurl itself at her to keep her with me but I trusted her above all else. If she was safe to return to the island then I could rest assured she would come back to me. Afterall, how many times had she shown her own desire to stay by my side? 

I nodded firmly. 

She stood still. Her eyes went to our clasped hands. Thinking something over, her lips pursed. She stepped back towards me and slowly lifted her lips to my chin, grazing them over my skin. I closed my eyes. Petal soft and warm against my chilled jaw. Lilac softened my nerves. 

When I met her eyes again, they were soft. It challenged my instincts more to see her go but all I had to do was remind myself of my purpose before my blood ran cold. “When you return, I’ll be ready,” I’d have that much time to search deep within myself for the control I’d need not to murder Tamlin on sight. 


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (03/07): new chapter tomorrow :)))  
> (03/06): and we got one more update tomorrow (as you guys will probably guess that for yourselves) but in the meantime do NOT @ me when you get to the part. all i gotta say is: oops  
> (03/05): not even remotely the chapter I planned so half the plot got shifted to tomorrow's update and I'm not sorry  
> (03/04): oh we are soooo not done with these scenes/characters. this chapter will be updated again tomorrow.  
> (03/03): for the 2nd time, i've updated Renew Pt I by mistake. I'm truly not responsible for myself at night. 
> 
> Now, we start moving into phase 2 of the plot :) this chapter will definitely be updated and we'll start figuring out why everyones gotta make problems for themselves
> 
> The Boys Wanna Be Her - Peaches  
> I've got you under my skin - Ben l'Oncle  
> Tighten Up - The Black Keys

**Azriel:**

Spymaster is a title rarely understood. My roles aren’t obvious so why should the public opinion of my position be? It was better that way. If people knew the true depth of my position, I doubt even my family would forgive me. Rhysand was aware, as the High Lord was supposed to be, but even he fell into the same trap of thinking him somewhat removed from my responsibilities. 

The task was simple: be a collector. Collect information like jewels even if they appear to be worthless pebbles at first. It all would be useful someday. As such, I needed to know everything. My spies left to watch people I had varying interest in and they returned with their accounts of their observations. I filed it all away. No detail was too small. The details were what normally became of the most importance anyway. 

If I’d any chance of making sure my family was safe, I needed to be devoted to accounting these details. Even if it meant betraying their trust as well. In no uncertain terms: I’d spent centuries watching my family from the shadows to ensure their safety. It wasn’t because I didn’t believe in privacy. Far from it, in fact, as a very private male myself. It was because my responsibility was to see to their safety and that of the Night Court, primarily the High Lord’s family. My role became harder with the introduction of Feyre and her sisters. Feyre, turned out, to be the easiest to watch over as she rarely left our sides when we left for the Spring Court. It was somehow ensuring Nesta and Elain were watched that proved difficult. Nuala and Cerridwen had been instrumental to that effect. 

Nesta, now in the war camps, I could rest easy knowing she was watched and relatively safe if Cassian had any say on the matter. I shook my head as I strolled. I thought Nesta would distract him but I’d never seen a male so possessed to return home, so motivated. 

It was Elain that I had to worry over. I could hear Feyre’s soft laugh. _Elain’s with Lucien_ , _she’s safe with him._ It pained me to know that was a part of the issue. Elain and Lucien were _both_ apart of the Night Court’s family. If either were hurt, it’d be disastrous. Though, if I could admit only to my private thoughts, I was more concerned over Elain’s safety after watching Lucien reduce fae to ash. 

Though now that Elain resided in the Day Court encumbered all efforts made by the Shadow Wraiths. Not for the obvious reason, however, that the Day Court is...bright. High Lord Helion is the most paranoid male I’d ever met, more so than Rhysand’s own father which is a hard standard to beat. His wards kept us all out. If everyone in Prythian could raise wards like Helion, I’d be out of a job. 

That left me watching the pair when they _left_ the Day Court which, due to those wards, was a guessing game as to when it happened. The randomness at which they did didn’t help. I knew it was an artifact of Elain’s visions, one that had saved Nesta, but I didn’t understand how Lucien’s head didn’t spin with the circles Elain could run around us all. Sometimes they stayed within the war camps but most days, they returned to the Day Court. Somehow, Lucien could winnow multiple times across the continent and appear completely unaffected. The more I saw of the male’s magic, the more nauseated I became as it’s immensity was slowly being revealed and his nonchalance regard for it. 

On the off chance I did find them, I’d sit within my shadows and wait. This was a matter I personally overlooked as my magic hid me naturally from Lucien’s. Through exposure, I was slowly getting an idea of how best to interpret Elain’s visions and the riddles she expressed them through. She stylistically favored a Dawn Court poet, I’d come to realize. 

But at the moment, Elain and Lucien resided in the war camp and the moment they moved, I’d move as well. 

**Nesta:**

I didn’t know what I expected but it wasn’t the peaceful morning I woke up to. I thought after Rhysand’s departure, in the morning we’d all wake and Feyre would be back. That was not the case and that continued to not be the case as I dressed and prepared for another day spent with Madja. Amren had the Book of Breathings as she worked on my suggestions. _Yes_ , _suggestions_. If they were decisions, Elain would undoubtedly see but as long as I continued to contemplate, my sister was blind to my intentions. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want her to care or be concerned but she would have a hard time understanding that I’d accepted the risks. 

Madja snapped her fingers. 

I looked back at the elder healer. I’d been away in my thoughts again. 

Though Madja didn’t get mad, she just pointed a gnarled finger back at the boiled gauze I was supposed to be folding. “Make the edges tighter,” she instructed. Our tents were empty for the moment. Madja didn’t like full beds anyway and I’d come to understand why. When you’ve been trained to kill all your life and you’re suddenly vulnerable, you tend to lash out at anyone who so much as looks at you. Cassian, though he wanted me safe, instructed me to resist using my magic to terrify them into submission. That was fine though as Madja didn’t have patience or tolerance for it and any Illyrian acting out would be reprimanded, usually with a finger placed directly over the wound track. They weren’t so tough when Madja’s index finger was wiggling around in their muscles. I was learning many helpful tactics from Madja and I found I didn’t need my magic to handle the Illyrians or Dark Bringers. 

If there was any debate over how necessary this method of submission was, it was silenced at the sight of the Illyrians or Dark Bringers being healed. I’d taken for granted Cassian’s control when his wings had been injured. He’d been cautious and resistant to us touching them but had never snapped his jaws and threatened to break limbs. My magic gave me a substantial amount of protection should they ever make good on their threats. Not to mention what Cassian would do. It was Madja that took the real risk. With only a small fraction of magic that she used to sense wounds, she was vulnerable to all injuries. The elder healer barely noted the threats as they came anyway. 

A Dawn Court healer walked into the tent. “One of the Summer Court fae were injured and the fires got out of hand,” he called, standing in his loose pink robe and apron. An apprentice like me. “They’ve sent for more healers. Some of the Night Court’s forces were hurt in the fire.” 

I kept calm on the exterior though I had to momentarily check for Cassian. As nothing seemed amiss, I relaxed. Madja looked up from preparing her gauze. A silver eyebrow with slightly longer hairs arched. “Illyrian or Dark Bringer?” She, like me, wore her hair piled up on her head and far from encroaching on her eyesight. 

“We haven’t the time to check,” despite the urgency, the two conversed at a steady pace. This was a trait of the healers. Rushing only killed people. Madja rose on creaky joints that cracked loudly. I’d learned not to offer the old female help after she reprimanded me the first time. 

“Nesta,” I was prepared for her to send me back to my tent. I hadn’t yet left the war camp in the Relaran Pass. “Prepare our kits. We need to leave,” she waved me away. “I’ll collect the freshly collected drush root and liquor.” Though I was shocked, I didn’t hesitate. I assembled two bags that would make any healer proud, complete with an excessive amount of gauze, forceps and scalpels. I followed after Madja and the healer’s apprentice to where the rest were congregating. I’d only spent days in the tent with Madja, learning to heal and in some cases, practicing. I hadn’t realized I’d advanced enough for this. My mind was often distracted by everything else going on that I barely recognized this role as important too. 

“You recall the procedure for burns?” Madja asked as we stood, waiting to be winnowed. Lucien’s ward ensured that I was magically hidden but I still received a few glances. 

I nodded. “Remove debris, disinfect, followed by Water Wraith scale tincture,” something about the scales shed by the Water Wraiths healed skin remarkably well. 

“And for burns on wings?” 

“Incapacitate them first,” I dipped my chin. The information came quickly. Medical books were something of a respite from the lore I’d been reading. The subject was still intriguing even after it had long since passed it’s application to Cassian. 

Madja grinned wryly. “I should think _all_ should be incapacitated first but if they aren’t from the Night Court, you must make do.” 

When it came time to winnow, Madja held me and then the hand of another Dawn Court healer. I appreciated the care she displayed to keep me separate even when she thought I didn’t notice. 

We appeared in the center of the healers tent within the Autumn and Summer Court’s war camp, positioned midway between N’simura and Adriata. Healers in varying levels, walked around us at brisk paces which was as much a sign of the chaos that had happened as someone screaming would have been. The Dawn Court was highly effective in confusing situations and so even this small sign of disarray was a large warning to be prepared. Madja guided me through the numerous healers tents till she found one for us to adopt as our own. Each one was furnished with all the necessities, including a medical kit, cot, food and drink though Madja insisted we bring our own too. In this way, all healers would see to the injured as they came regardless of Court. It was so logical, I almost wished to meet their High Lord. 

We didn’t need to wait long. A male nearly trod on our heels as he tore into our tent. 

“Guide him,” Madja instructed, pouring water into a basin. 

I barely needed to but I reached to support the large frame as it crashed against a cot. It was Varian. I only noticed by the spare patches of white hair visible over the ashes that coated it grey. His left arm had severe burns. The skin was gone and replaced by red and white splotches. Dark, black holes dotted the skin of his forearm. It seeped a yellow fluid that mixed with the soot and dripped grey stains onto his pants. His armor and skin were coated in ash and smoke. The tunic shirt he wore had been burned away entirely on one side, the sleeve still intact on the other. The leather straps of his breastplate that were closest to the burn appeared ready to snap apart. As he sat, he coughed and sent plumes of ash into the air. He swayed in his seat but only could offer vague gasps in response. 

“Liquor or sleeproot tea?” I asked. 

“We’ve no time to brew it, drink,” Madja interrupted, thrusting a bottle at Varian. 

His iridescent eyes encompassed the bottle greedily. Without question, he uncorked it and took several, long swallows. Only when his exhales burned my own nostrils did he hand Madja back the bottle. 

“We’ve no time,” Madja repeated for me. She handed me the basin of purified water.

There was no way the liquor had enough time to pass through his system. That didn’t stop me from raising the basin and positioning it over his burn. Madja went to hold his arm. She was murmuring something to him. He swayed some more when he nodded. I tipped the basin. The water edged closer to spilling. A little further and the first touch of cold water hit his skin. He tipped his head back and screamed. Madja’s hands dug tightly into his arm. I didn’t know she had enough strength to restrain him. 

Varian’s forehead broke into a full sweat. His eyes were fluttering closed though he continued to scream. “We need more,” she eyed the lowering level of my water. “Restrain him by his other shoulder and don’t stop pouring. We don’t want to re-start.” I moved to stand before Varian. He glared at me through half-lidded eyes but for the pain he felt, I doubted he saw me. One hand secured his shoulder, the other managing the water basin. Varian jolted against me but I was stronger. He had no energy left in him, no fight after the burn he sustained. Even his screams died and gave way to pitiful groans. Madja refilled the basin twice before she deemed the wound cleaned. Varian was nearly unconscious and barely needed to be restrained or incapacitated by the time we finished. He mumbled incoherent ramblings, lips barely moving. 

“Help me lay him down,” Madja asked, moving around the soaked cot. Madja and I worked in pair to disinfect the wound as best we could before retrieving the scales. By this time, I readily accepted that Madja expected me to perform the bulk of the tasks. My training needed progress in her eyes. 

The Water Wraith scales were stored in a thick oil within a glass jar. Each one had to be placed on the wound for the fullest effect. I sat on a low stool. The jar positioned between my legs, forceps in hand, I laid each one down so careful as to not pain Varian even more. His brows were permanently worried together. His lips moved rapidly but I couldn’t detect what he said. I wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead. His body relaxed slightly as the liquor finally circulated through him but it left him to groan lowly when I touched him. 

The room was humid. Madja started boiling water to keep the air warm and moist. My hair clung to my neck and forehead, sweat forming on my own brows. My dress pinched uncomfortably where my corset stuck to me. I’d have to use breast bindings on days I expected to assist Madja, the corset didn’t do so well when I sweat. I itched to undo the top button of my high-necked dress but resisted. My concentration should be on Varian alone. I firmed my lips to redouble my efforts. 

“We need more scales,” Madja had already handed me my second jar. They were tiny, pearly looking disks with one side rounded and the other spaded. No bigger than my pinky nail, we would need dozens of jars to cover the entirety of Varian’s arm. “I’ll be back,” she said and slipped through the tent. 

My neck ached while I leaned over the wound. It started midway up his forearm and extended to his shoulder. His breastplate had a blood smear across it. That would need to be removed eventually but it was of minimal concern when compared to his burn. The Summer Court fae were responsible for keeping the Autumn Court’s flames at bay. Targeting the Summer Court was a decent strategy at turning our own tactics against us. I made steady progress but I’d need many more scales before I finished. When the tent flaps opened again, it wasn’t Madja who returned. 

A male stood, also covered in soot. “This tent is full,” I muttered, barely taking my eyes away from Varian long enough to notice the male’s arrival. 

He didn’t move away though. 

I looked back up. Short cropped hair covered in another layer of filth. He appeared intact. He was gangly looking, tall and lithe. A perfect example of the fae body type. I thought I’d seen a children’s story book where this male played the villainous fae, intent on carting away the children for eating. His skin was obstructed by the ash. The whites of his eyes and golden irises flicked over me but returned to Varian. He shifted. The sunlight filtering in caught the auburn of his hair, gleaming like copper. 

_Autumn Court, then_. 

“Is this your handiwork?” I asked tonelessly, adjusting another scale. Varian must have fallen unconscious. I knew my forcep had brushed his wound track. I’d never be able to replicate Elain’s delicate touch perfectly. 

He breathed in heavily. “I need to speak to him.” he asked, his voice was gravel. 

“I’m not finished.” 

“Leave.” 

I looked up from Varian’s arm again. He’d approached the bedside opposite of me. His eyes took me in. I didn’t question if he saw the resemblance between my sister and I. Of course he did. Or perhaps he was an imbecile. “I’ll leave when I’m finished-”

His lips pursed. He glanced between Varian and I in a way that might have been nervous. Though there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes directed at me. I should be more grateful that I resembled Feyre as I suspected it was the only reason he’d yet to lunge. He had that tone that suggested he was not used to others disobeying direct orders. My lips nearly quirked at the thought I’d be introducing him to the concept. “You’ll leave because I’ve ordered you to.” 

My eyes flicked over him in appraisal before returning to Varian. “Or what? You’ll set this tent on fire with us all in it?” 

**Nesta:**

His name came unbidden. I’d heard it before, usually accompanied by curses and spits. _Eris._ His jaw was incredibly pointed. His face was as well. I felt like I was looking at another snake in Elain’s garden. Even his name suggested as such with the awful hissing sound it required and I questioned the mother’s intention for naming her child so carelessly. 

Varian’s arm was barely halfway finished. If I stopped now, I’d need to reclean the unscaled portion and disinfect it. Until one of the Dawn Court healers could come and look at the wound, debating if it needed healer’s magic or if it would heal on its own, I wasn’t planning on moving. A drop of sweat beaded down my brow. The tent was almost cloudy from the steam. 

Eris’s eyes slid back to Varian. I could feel the commands forming on his tongue but for some reason, he didn’t move towards me. His hands were fisted at his side. They were the only part of his skin not covered in a thick layer of ash and completely pale. Long fingers with no callouses, my mother would have said perfect for playing a harp. She said I’d be better suited to singing which was her way of saying I didn’t have a musician’s touch. 

I returned to Varian’s wound. The healers would likely use their magic to restore his skin. The burn was too deep. It would impair motion. Though this wasn’t his sword arm so they might have to accept the consequences in favor of healing those more critically injured. I picked up another scale. “He’ll heal.” I laid it flat next to the prior. When the scales turned grey in the morning, they’d all need to be changed. As I plucked each one from the oil-filled jar, they glistened iridescent in the candlelight with the shiny film of oil dripping off them onto my apron. Eris watched me apply a few scales, frozen in place. Focusing on these tasks gave my mind a nice and useful distraction from the Cauldron. The haze was distant when I had something to apply my mind to. 

Varian grumbled. 

Eris shifted in the room. There were no seats for him to use, all he could do was stand and wait. And watch me. I hoped I smelled like Cassian or something awful and Eris would stay far away like all the other Illyrian’s did before him. I didn’t feel threatened but if I used my magic against the High Lord’s son, there’d be no secrecy for me again. “Is he sedated?” 

“Yes, but he will be in pain regardless,” drush root couldn’t be applied to burns. There was no local pain reliever I could administer. If the healers didn’t restore the skin, he’d be in for weeks of painful rehabilitation. 

“I did not ask.” 

I raised myself to the highest level of restraint possible to keep all reaction from my face. He didn’t ask but it was implied. Eris stood glaring between Varian and I, whatever business he had with the Summer Court Prince would be kept secret for the moment. 

Madja walked into the tent with three jars of Water Wrath scales. “It was all that could be spared. Thesan will send a healer as soon as they finish with Tarquin,” she barely noted Eris’s presence, placing the jars on the bedside table. She selected one to pry open. Her heavy wool dress shifted over her bony frame as she shuffled across the floor. Her long grey hair had unspooled from the complicated updo and now swayed in a singular braid down her spine. 

“That is _High Lord_ ,” Eris corrected, crossing his arms over his chest. 

She stood upright, fingernails curled around the wax-sealed lid of the jar. Turning, she looked at Eris from head to toe before chuckling, “I’m older than your father, child,” she said this softly, almost chidingly. Her voice hardened suddenly when she straightened from her mirth. “Address your elders with more respect. I know no High Lord but the one I am sworn to so keep your tongue inside that trap of yours,” she stepped before him and slapped the jar into his chest though he caught it. “Make yourself useful and open the jar.” 

Eris’s jaw clenched. He looked back at Varian and huffed. 

“Do _not_ break the jar, child,” she hummed out, shuffling around the bed to oversee the work I’d done. “Precise, Nesta. Very precise,” she nodded approvingly. Eris stood a long moment to see if Madja would look back at him but she paid him no mind. He opened the jar and sat it on the table with a loud smack. “Bring the jar, child,” she held out her hand. 

The tent grew warmer but it was nothing like Lucien’s comforting warmth. To compare the two, Lucien was a hearth and Eris a forest fire. I wasn’t soothed at all but choked by the air he sucked from the room. Luckily enough, I burned brighter though at the moment I didn’t dare touch my magic. Lucien’s wards were made by trial and error and though I trusted his magic, I didn’t want to push their boundaries while in front of this strange male. 

I was relieved when Madja arrived. It took the pressure from my shoulders to tell this male off. I didn’t feel his eyes burning holes in me anymore as they focused on Madja. 

The tent flap opened again. I didn’t bother looking up. This tent was getting more crowded by the moment; Madja didn’t permit more than a single visitor at the time but she kept silent for this one moment. Figs and honeysuckle floated through the cool air, giving me a small reprieve from the heavy humidity in the room. “Your brothers are looking for you. I doubt this is the place you wish for them to find you,” my head snapped to the door. 

Elain stood in the tent entrance with Lucien behind her. She wore a yellow dress, warm like a sunset, with several golden cords securing it at her waist. The details of it were hidden underneath a cloak of evergreen that clenched shut at her left shoulder. Twin braids fell down her shoulders with smaller threads of gold woven in with it. Though Eris couldn’t make me leave, I nearly rose to meet my sister. Her honey eyes slid to mine and she barely nodded. I stayed put, confused. 

It was strange to see my sister and not receive one of her comforting hugs, where she wrapped herself around my neck and hung tight. My throat closed. I hoped this wasn’t a permanent change, that her abilities didn’t close her from me. I’d never been one to rely on physical comfort but I felt the absence of my sister’s more severely than ever now. One sister in the wind and the other right in front of me and further than ever. _And you’ve not helped this_ , I hissed to myself. Hiding my future from Elain had surely brought some of this behavior change as well. 

“And what did you tell them?” Eris shot back immediately, not at all perturbed by my sister’s interference. I raised a brow though I kept my focus on Varian’s arm. I hadn’t realized Eris had been on my sister’s radar at all. I thought Lucien would kill the male and accept the consequences rather than have Elain deal with him. _No, that’s more like Cassian_ , I reasoned. Lucien was less rash. 

“She isn’t your messenger. Be grateful you’ve been warned at all,” Lucien interrupted. 

“Then what are you doing here? You could have let them find me here,” Eris snapped, sounding falsely confident. With his hands splayed out, it appeared as if he wasn’t embarrassed but a moment ago he’d been shifting about wondering where to place his feet. 

“No,” Elain shook her head, pity in her round eyes. That only made Eris angrier. 

“You’ll be taking Elain and I to this meeting,” Lucien added. 

“Father will be there,” Eris retorted. 

“I’m counting on that,” Elain replied before leaving the tent. Eris cast one glance back to Varian and then a glare at me before following their retreating forms. My stomach shifted. I’d skipped lunch again when I shouldn’t have. I could see where Cassian’s appetite came from now as the long days caused the same shift in mine. But my stomach was unsettled for reasons not to do with hunger. There was something eerily familiar in Eris’s defensiveness that my mind picked at. 

“Focus, Nesta,” Madja chided. 

I corrected a scale that broke from the neat pattern I’d created. 

“I don’t think a healer will be coming soon, they are still working to heal Tarquin,” Madja sighed. 

“What happened?” 

“Tarquin was hit with faebane and he’d lost control of the water. The blaze nearly consumed him and the fae with him.” I looked back to Varian. “A few Illyrian’s were caught by the initial flare.” I swallowed. Cassian would be away for long then, seeing over the dead. I’d need to find him after all this. 

Cresseida was the next to enter the tent. “How bad?” she demanded, also covered in soot. She was out of breath and her face was hastily wiped free of the grime. Her seashell breastplate was smudged multiple times with blood. Her hair was singed at the edges in the long braid she wore. The edges of her tunic were burned back to her elbows. 

“His arm will likely require a healer’s presence,” Madja answered. 

Cresseida shook her head. Her eyes were wide and rimmed with red as they beheld her brother, still as death on the bed. I wished I’d wiped away the dirt from him. He looked worse than he was. The pain would be immense but he’d live at the very least. “No, they haven’t even healed Tarquin completely,” her voice choked. 

She stood over the bed but Madja kept her from getting closer. “You risk infection,” Madja informed softly. “He’s in good hands.” 

“He’ll live, Cresseida,” I nodded, swallowing. I hadn’t seen her since Under the Mountain when she’d insisted on giving me time to escape. I’d been unprepared for the emotions that came with seeing her again. I’d never thanked her. She didn’t seem to be the person to hold that against me but it haunted me at the moment. She’d been prepared to die and I hadn’t thanked her. I had to kill one fae but how many did she slaughter just for me? In my defense? “I’ll keep his pain to a minimum.” I shouldn’t make promises I didn’t know how to keep. 

She met my eyes and bit her lip. She teetered on the edge of saying something. She never got the chance when the tent opened once more, a Summer Court messenger standing behind her. “High Lord Beron has called a meeting, Princess.”

She sucked in. “We can meet tomorrow.” 

“He insists, Princess.” Both Varian and Tarquin were impaired. It needed to be her. 

She met my eyes again. 

“I’ll stay with him,” I assured, nodding my head vigorously. I didn’t know what overcame me but I had the sudden need to show I could help her too. “He won’t be alone.” I never felt compelled to do anything but at the moment, I would have agreed to anything. I needed Cassian. All these shifting emotions and turmoil was festering inside me like an infection. The Cauldron was raising it’s head, looking for the tinder and ready to set the fire.

Cresseida didn’t thank me when she left but her last look was enough for me. 

  
  


**Elain:**

None of the fae questioned my presence when Eris stood in front of them but they barred Lucien’s entrance. I was so caught off guard by their interference, I stood entranced by their audacity. Eris almost didn’t notice that Lucien and I had stopped following him. He’d done a good job of ignoring us for most of the way but once we entered the Autumn Court’s camp, he walked ahead. 

The camp was loud and rowdy but I didn’t see many fae. The tents were large and must have been filled to the brim for the noise they created. Smoke was in the air but after today, I’d be hard pressed to find a fae who didn’t smell of ash. I resisted all temptation to look around and inspect. My visions told me enough of what the Autumn Court was capable of. Lucien’s arm, woven with mine, tightened as he sensed my discomfort. I should have been the one comforting him. This return was too sudden for him to have prepared nearly enough. 

When we approached another tent, though this one was bright red and trimmed in gold, the guards standing outside barred Lucien’s entrance. Eris looked back and rolled his eyes. “He is with the Seer, you idiots.” They snapped apart and we strode through. Unlike the High Lord’s tent, there was no table for everyone to sit at. Instead, we were in a great room devoid of most furniture besides for a throne occupied by High Lord Beron. Not a single torch or firepit burned in the room save a few candles for light and yet the room was suffocatingly hot. 

The tent walls were covered with lush tapestries with different symbols occupying each. The two that stood behind High Lord Beron was a red leaf that seemed to turn into flames at the edges, set against a background of light tan. The second was a blood orange chrysanthemum on a field of blue. I searched for Lucien’s mother but no one reminded me remotely of my mate. It was then I realized I was the only female in the room, largely occupied by the lesser Lords and Captains in the Autumn Court. 

_The Ladies Court_ , I sighed internally. I’d forgotten. The Autumn Court divided it’s politics between the female and males.

Lucien was completely rigid next to me but he wore the tension well. Dressed in Day Court robes, he didn’t falter or shy away from inspection. I didn’t doubt for a moment that any who stood in the room forgot what High Lord Beron’s seventh and banished son looked like. From their pointed looks, I knew I was right. They sniffed in my direction but Lucien held their gaze until they learned not to glance again. 

“You kept us all waiting, Eris,” Beron sneered. It wasn’t hard to guess who Lucien’s half siblings were. They shared their father’s narrow facial structure, pallor and the red hair. Though only Eris and Lucien’s hair gleamed like copper. The rest of the males had auburn or brown hair, clean shaven and wore varying shades of brown, orange and tan. 

“The Seer requested entrance, Father,” Eris bowed curtly before stepping aside. 

Beron’s hands clutched at the armrests. “I told you I’d kill you the next time you stepped foot on my land.” 

Lucien raised a brow. I placed my other hand on his forearm. I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what I’d do but I wouldn’t suffer this male’s threats. I had Lucien’s knife on my person and though I didn’t know how to use it, I’d find a purpose for it. “This is the Summer Court,” Lucien replied briskly. 

“Don’t jest in my Court, boy,” Beron growled. Shadows deepened under his eyes. Lucien didn’t reply, keeping his gaze uninterested. His head cocked slightly as if to say again, _This is still the Summer Court and your threats do not reach me._ While his demeanor was completely unaffected, underneath I could feel the heat leaching through. The white Day Court robes were better than armor on Lucien because they drew Beron’s eyes and kept the male’s mind preoccupied. Standing in a Court of males with skin like milk and bodies slender as willow trees, Lucien was an obvious outcast. His bronze skin and copper hair set him apart just as the breadth of his shoulders did. His soft features and easy golden eyes did not belong to Beron, neither did his heart or his mind. The longer Lucien stood unbowed, the more obvious these details became. 

Beron’s red eyes shifted to me. Lucien’s heat intensified. “Have you come to warn us that there would be an accident today?” he chuckled. “Tarquin couldn’t handle the flames as well as he thought. Pity.” Beron waved forward at a servant who brought a platter of cheese and wine. 

The servant was dressed in a dark brown and kept his head bent so low as to avoid all eye contact with his High Lord. They poured him a cup of wine and Beron drank it in one swallow, sinking deeper into his seat. His beady eyes flicked back to me, a frown appearing. The lines in his face deepened. “Speak when you’re spoken to, girl. You’re a little late for young Tarquin but maybe what you have to say will still be useful,” he shrugged. Lucien’s arm tightened almost painfully but he relaxed when he felt my discomfort. I’d told my mate this would be difficult but I hadn’t anticipated just how hard until I stood in front of Beron myself and felt my own temper coming to a head. 

I thought when it came time for it, I’d be able to find the right words. Nesta would have. She always was quick with a witty retort. I tended to share Feyre’s habit for directness though if I was completely honest, I preferred not to respond to cruelty at all. Though this was not a case where I could afford to be silent so I lifted my chin, “Why would I warn you for something you planned?” I felt the pressure of their eyes and tried my best to keep my shoulders back and chin high. My mask was better when I wasn’t the focus of so much attention. Now, it was impossible to ignore their trailing eyes that poked and prodded. 

It was an impossible situation. Both Eris and Beron could not die but both were trying their hardest. Beron, through recklessly bold attacks and Eris, by ill-conceived plans that danced precariously close to insanity. They were necessary to the coming battle. They could die after if they really wanted to but I didn’t think Eris wanted to give up his future so thoughtlessly. If only he could see through my eyes, he’d listen better. 

Beron stopped a grape en route to his mouth. His eyes slid to mine. “That’s a dangerous accusation, girl.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Not an accusation?” Beron scoffed, leaning forward in his seat. He waved us away. Another loud scoff. Several soldiers and eager-to-please Lords stepped forward to usher us from the tent. “Your foolishness can wait for another day.” 

I needed to act fast. Eris, I believed I could change at least somewhat. I had no hopes for his father. This was my chance. Drawing on my small amount of confidence, I resummoned my voice. All eyes snapped back to me, feeling the sway of my magic that was indiscernible but still irresistible to them all. “It wasn’t an accusation,” I repeated. 

Beron’s nostrils flared. “You grow tiresome—” 

“It was a statement,” all commotion in the room paused. Lucien’s shock echoed through the bond. His magic nearly crackled. If Beron breathed wrong, I was sure Lucien would ignore all pretense and use whatever magic would destroy Beron quickest. I squeezed his arm in what I hoped was an encouraging manner. “You dance precariously close to your fate, High Lord.” I waited a moment to see the words filter through his mind. His lips twitched and forehead wrinkled. When they’d hit home, I nodded succinctly. “We’ll take our leave now.” 

Turning our backs on Beron left my neck feeling warm but the High Lord remained seated, watching us exit in silence. The males in the room parted before us. Those that had been staring at Lucien, wondering at the audacity of the banished son, now gaped fully at me. I stared past them as if I never saw them to begin with.

**Elain:**

Lucien and I didn’t return to the war camps. Both of us were exhausted from the short trip we’d made to the Autumn Court. Even as we departed, the noise that once was exciting now sounded overwhelming. Dusk had settled over the Summer Court forest by the time we winnowed to the Day Court. My back ached painfully. My mate’s emotions tugged at me. The strain on him to leave me to my abilities and fight his instincts even as I endangered the both of us daily. I bit my lip. My fingers picked at one another.

“Now now,” Lucien’s warm hand covered mine, voice soft and empathetic. He kept his gaze ahead while we walked up through the garden’s many tiers. He had figured if he winnowed us to the edge of the Day Court palace, we could enjoy a stroll through the gardens before retiring. With how tired we both were, we nearly trudged up the stairs. If we walked to the right, we’d find Lucien’s mother’s chrysanthemums. Something told me I’d need to visit them tonight like they alone could console me in this loneliness. 

No gardeners or masters with their pupils stood in the gardens this late in the day. There was no light to work by so they’d mostly retreated indoors. The few that remained were strolling just as my mate and I were. They all bowed to us now as we passed. Before, only the house staff were aware that I was a Seer. Now, everyone knew. I dipped my head in a curt greeting but hurriedly glanced away. If I looked too long, I’d recognize their faces. 

None knew that Lucien was Helion’s son. I, at first, could accept this but with each passing day it became less and less reasonable sounding. The truth would need to come out and not when Helion passed his title. I pressed my eyes shut. _Had I truly just thought of Helion dying?_ I used this as evidence that my visions made me callous. I’d seen too much. It must not affect me as strongly any more. Was I losing myself?

“Love,” Lucien swept me from the garden into the bottom level of the white and gold marble palace. The entrances were lit with floating lights and candles, barely casting enough light to find our way by. They’d always lit the candles when we returned home but tomorrow night, the halls would be dim once more in respect for the absence of the sun. 

Lucien helped me ascend the spiral staircases that defied gravity up the six levels of the palace. The glass ceilings above offered an uninterrupted view of the navy sky, gradually darkening. The halls were cast in shades of twilight but Lucien had no problem navigating through the arcing hallways. His hand never left the small of my back. He never rushed me but there was an urgency with which he walked this time. He wanted to get back to our private rooms without delay. 

When we made it to our rooms, he finally did leave my side but only for a moment. A servant arrived at the door to ask for dinner but Lucien asked for water for a bath and our meal to be sent to our rooms. I suppose Helion could expect to dine alone tonight. I didn’t question if he was in residence anymore. Helion didn’t stay in the war camps unless we did or an emergency prevented him. The accident today might qualify. 

It turned out, asking for the water was unnecessary. The bath had already been filled but the water was cold. We usually bathed after returning anyway and Lucien could heat the water himself. A brief, mirthless smile came unbidden. Our servants were getting skilled at anticipating our needs. None of my dress robes ever came in a color that wasn’t warm and most of them were in shades of pink. Lucien’s had been made fire resistant after we returned a few times with singes. They’d even succeeded in making a reasonably good attempt at churidars that Lucien wore beneath his robes when we ventured into the Spring Court. He’d not grown used to fighting in the robes just yet. I found it interesting he adjusted more readily to the Night Court’s clothing than the Day’s. 

Lucien set a few candles burning in the bathing room in anticipation of the night. He warmed the bathwater quickly. Too quickly. The water boiled. 

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his hand from the water. He never burned and his skin came away unscalded. He gave me a sheepish smile. His hair had gotten longer since we met. It fell well past his shoulders. “We’ll have to wait for the water to cool,” he informed me. 

“I’m in no rush,” I assured him, coming to stand between his legs. 

“I am,” he sat on the rim of the bath. His fingers found the clasp of my evergreen cloak. It was made of a heavier wool, sturdier than all of my gowns combined. Lucien had it made to keep me warm but to protect me as well, having spent a significant amount of time warding it. He’d insisted I wear it when we left the Day Court as well as take my small knife that he went to pains to have me carry. 

Steam floated off the top. The bath was perfectly circular and made of porcelain inlaid with silver and gold. I could lay across the bath and not touch either end. It sat directly beneath a skylight that Lucien assured me, I’d never be spied through. That didn’t stop me from glancing suspiciously at it from time to time. 

I let him slip the cloak from my shoulders but instead of letting it drop, he held it away from us both. In a flash, the cloak ignited. The sudden burst of heat shocked my skin but I didn’t flinch away. I gaped at the green fabric turning to black before finally falling to the floor in flaming scraps. “My...cloak,” I mumbled. The metal clasp that fastened it fell to the floor in a clatter. “Why did you do that?” I frowned at my mate. Smoke curled in the room along with the steam. 

“I hope you’re not attached to the dress, love. It goes next,” he warned softly, eyes seeking out mine. 

I didn’t care about the dress as much as the cloak my mate had dedicated effort into. “Why would you do that?” I asked. His fingers fiddled with the ties of my dress, the golden cords that helped fit it to my waistline. 

“It smelled,” he huffed. 

“We can wash it,” my frown deepened. “Or we could have.” The cords fell to the floor and I helped Lucien to peel off my yellow robe. He found my knife and sat it on the tub’s edge. Before he could take it, I lifted it from his finger’s reach and continued to hold it away from him. His eyes glared at the dress. I’d seen most emotions from my mate but the cold distaste in his eyes as he regarded my dress was new. “First, you must tell me what is bothering you.” 

His eyes slid back to mine. The edges in them softened. His emotions, all turbulent and indistinguishable, calmed. I licked my lips. With the time he remained silent, I inspected the pieces that combined to form my mate. The tan Day Court robes, layered over brown churidars from the Night Court with a fitted brown leather breastplate that was from the Spring. He didn’t need to wear an article from the Autumn Court. His copper hair was symbolic enough. I suspected the sword he kept permanently by his hip was from the Autumn Court but had never confirmed for myself. 

Lastly, the breadth of his shoulders and curve of his jawline was Helion’s. He had his father to thank for the slight roundess in his cheeks and curve in his lips. His high cheekbones and tilt in his eyes must have come from his mother. Helion’s eyes were rounder like mine but Lucien’s were upturned, like he was always enjoying a private joke. I hoped his mother shared this with him. 

“I can’t stand the Autumn Court scent mixing with yours. I can still smell my father,” he admitted. “Not so much anymore,” he motioned to my nudity. His hand came to rest on the swell of my hip. “Now would you hand me your dress, love?” he asked quietly, hair falling to shield his downcast eyes. 

“You should have told me,” I said, pressing my dress into his outstretched hands. He didn’t immediately set it on fire. He stared at it. I stepped from his legs to the tub’s edge, swinging my leg over the edge. He reached out to stop me, uttering some incoherent protest, and I waved him away. The water was scalding but it’d cooled enough for me. I slipped into the hot water wordlessly. My skin tingled and pinkened but it felt cleansing. The deep ache in my back already felt better. “Soap?” I asked, sitting back against the tub besides him. 

He watched me fondly, dropping my dress on the floor to grab me the pear and fig scented soap I preferred. He’d rather me use the unscented one but the soap smelled of him and so it stayed. My hair fanned out around me on the surface. It’d need a thorough washing if I ever expected to lose the scent of smoke, sweat and Autumn Court. 

Instead of immediately joining me as I'd wanted, he passed me the soap and leaned over the edge. Some of his own hair got wet but he paid it no mind: content to watch me for the moment, he swirled the water with an idle finger. 

“Please tell me,” I urged quietly. 

He watched me for a moment longer, amicable smile fading. “I trust you,” he said. I stayed quiet but nodded. “I trust you and I will trust your response but I need to ask,” he licked his lips. “Are they so critical?” 

I breathed out. I didn’t need to ask for clarification. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

He reached out and caught my chin with the tip of his index, bringing my eyes to meet his. Both natural and mechanical eyes watched me with honest intensity, “I don’t worry for your safety if I can be besides you. I worry for what I’d do if I wasn’t...if Beron threatened you, I don’t think I could stop myself.” 

I caught his hand. “There will always be people threatening me.” 

Something saddened in his eyes and I felt the despair growing inside him. His eyes flicked over me, taking in the proof of my vulnerability and feeling the truth of my words. I wished I could have said otherwise.

“And I’m not scared.” 

His eyes flashed. “I saw that today, love.” 

I stopped him before he could chide me. “And I won’t be with you by my side.”

“And when I can’t be there? When you tell me not to be? What then, Elain?” he begged. I didn’t have anything to say. The golden knife sat between us on the bathtub’s rim but it was practically a jest. I didn’t know how to use it effectively and even if I did, I had to be willing to use it. We both knew I wasn’t. “I can’t handle your pain. I don’t care who I have to fight to keep you safe but if I’m not there—” his voice cut off. His one eye was red-rimmed. 

“Then teach me to use the knife,” I reached out and took his hand. 

He shook his head. “You have to be willing to use it, Elain.” 

“I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon so I guess I’d have to,” I rushed to say. His eyebrows lifted. His lips softened into a wry smile once more. He leaned forward to kiss my forehead. The room no longer smelled heavy with the sufferings of our day. Even the smoke of my burned cloak had faded to nothing. All I could pick out were the spiced fruit smells wafting from my mate, like a mulled wine, and mixing with the steam of the water. My eyelids fluttered shut. He pressed kisses down the bridge of my nose. I clucked my tongue. “This was a very elaborate scheme just to ensure I’d never force you from my side again,” I licked my lips. 

He smiled against my lips. “I’ve no idea what you mean.” He leaned forward and we both heard the _plop_ of my knife dropping into the bath water. Neither of us paid it heed. Lucien tugged me to the edge of the bath. I wrapped my arms around his neck, his arms hauling me from the water to drench the floor. We ignored my wet skin in favor of addressing the layers still adorning him. It was an effort not to slip on the slick tile floor as we edged towards the bedroom but attempted to undress. My fingers tugged the straps of his armor. He kicked his pants off, the both of us tugging his tunic until I heard ripping. Then the soft chuckle when Lucien pulled it over his head, uncaring. 

His hands swept under my jaw and brought my lips back to his. My wet hair curled over my skin. I hadn’t dried off at all. The bedroom was cast in blue moonlight with the barest golden haze from the bath’s candles filtering in. The door to our patio was still open to the night, the white curtains dancing in an unfelt breeze. I thought to mention the candles or closing the door but Lucien occupied my thoughts so thoroughly, these worries escaped me. I concerned myself for only a moment with getting the bed wet before Lucien reclaimed my attention finally. The sheets were cold and stuck to my back. He slipped between my thighs easily, his hips nestled between mine. His skin was warm where it touched mine and left goosebumps in it’s wake. His tongue sought entrance, slipping over my lips and tilting my jaw to suit him. 

My fingers curled in his hair. I tugged him closer. I trailed over his back. The scars had healed over and only a few remained. I’d touched those gingerly. With reverence, he kissed my neck and collar. His hand kneaded my breast before he brought his lips over my nipple. I bent my head back. A soft cry escaped me. I ran my hands over the planes of his body, from chest to abdomen and lower to where his cock rested against me. My ears were fully attuned to his responses, not wanting to miss a moment. He moaned against my skin when I held him and inhaled sharply when I guided him to my entrance. His hand pinned my hip to enter me slowly. My back arched against him, pressing my chest to his face. He might have whispered my name. I echoed the sentiment. My thighs squeezed around him when he rocked against me. I wanted more. He kissed up my neck. Now I was sure he was saying my name when he nibbled on my ear. My hand flattened on the small of his back, urging him deeper. I wanted my mate closer until all I could feel was him and the bond between us. His fingers snagged on my wet hair when he suspended himself over me, thrusting into me faster. 

The room was quiet save for our collective moans and skin meeting. The rhythm was unplanned and we both heard it anyway. I clung to him, raising my hips to meet his thrusts. Each one was more needier than the last. What started slow and unhurried became more frantic. We needed closure to this day. I needed solace and he, assurance. In his arms, I found it all. Completion wasn’t enough so much as closeness. Even when I’d cried his name out several times and he’d came, we spent a longer time resting in each other’s arms until some resemblance of security was found.

**Nesta:**

It took me well after midnight to finish applying all the scales to Varian’s arm. By that time, my back hurt from keeping my posture rigid and eyes ached from squinting. I needed to change. My sweat itched at my skin where my corset was too tight. Elain and Feyre could handle dirt but I could never ignore the feeling like they could.

Madja went and found us a meal of farro and steamed squash, courtesy of the Dawn Court’s healers. I nearly swallowed the entire bowl when she handed it to me. She’d wanted me to make rounds through the other tents but I’d promised Cresseida. I wasn’t leaving his side though he wouldn’t be conscious to say I did otherwise. If a healer didn’t come for him soon, he’d wake though from the pain. We had half a jar of the Water Wraith scales left. There wouldn’t be anymore until we could somehow have more delivered or procured. As Water Wraiths were native to the Summer Court, they were in short supply during the war. With nothing to kill the pain, the best chance we had was promoting as much healing as possible before he regained consciousness. The scales I’d applied had already started to gray at one end, losing their iridescent quality. 

In the meantime, I set to clearing the male of all his armor. Madja and I wiped at the soot. A few times I tossed the dirty water basin from our tent, noting the Summer Court soldiers stationed at the entrance. Deceptively, Varian’s armor was light. Cassian’s wasn’t very heavy since he needed to fly but Varian’s could have floated on water. It took a while to check him for other wounds as every part of his skin was covered in grime. We needed to carefully clean before we could confirm he was fine otherwise. 

Varian woke once and I’d thrust the bottle of liquor into his hand as soon as his eyes opened. He groaned loudly, eyes squeezed shut. I took his hand and fitted it over the bottle’s neck. “Drink,” I urged, swallowing through the dryness. 

A pitiful whine started in the back of his throat. “Cress?” 

“She’s not here. Drink,” when his hand didn’t seize the bottle, I brought it to his lips. I didn’t want to see him in pain. Cresseida entrusted me to watch over him. The least I could do was to ensure he was comfortable. _She stood between Hybern and I without a second thought._ The guilt those thoughts produced was far worse than the guilt I’d faced after killing Dagdan. I was a murderer but I’d forced Cresseida to murder far more. _Yet she stayed behind._

I pressed the bottle against Varian’s mouth until his lips parted. Some trickled down his cheeks and I caught it with the sleeve of my dress. He strained at first against the burning liquid but the more he did, the quicker the pain in his arm caught up with him. He was gulping the last drops by the end. 

A few times Varian threatened to wake after and I’d sat upright. Thankfully, he closed his eyes again. Though his pain was no secret as he groaned while he rested. His arm looked no better and all the scales had lost some of their shimmer. The longer the night dragged on, it was clear the healers wouldn’t be coming for a while. Only a handful actually possessed the healing magic of the Dawn Court and if Tarquin had been burned as severely as I suspected, they wouldn’t leave him for a while. Even if they had finished, that alone could have drained them of their magic. 

Multiple times, I considered healing the skin but refrained. 

I wasn’t sure what the consequences were. I knew Cassian held a piece of my magic and I struggled with that ever since. Some days I could forget but most I couldn’t. There was no getting past what I had caused and now that Cassian knew of the mating bond, there was no ignoring it either. The mating bond, as I’d heard multiple times, was a tether of magic, between magics. The night I decided to fix Cassian’s wing myself, I’d made a tether between Cassian and I. 

Feyre. 

Elain. 

They had mates. By logic, I might have had one as well but the fears ate away at me all the same that I’d forced the mating bond. Each day I feared I’d condemned him to loving someone who he was never meant to love. I could have robbed him of his true fate. 

I swiped hurriedly at my eyes, not understanding how I could come so close to crying when I’d never had this issue before. Madja wasn’t present but Varian was. Anyone could walk in. 

That fear kept me from healing Varian’s arm but another idea occurred to me. I swiped at the jar of scales sitting on the bedside table. Pulling one out with forceps, I brought it up for inspection. They shimmered in the candlelight. The oil kept them fresh and sterile. A glob of it splattered onto my apron. There were possibly a million reasons to not do what I was about to but I ignored them all. I wouldn’t make those same mistakes. I wouldn’t heal him directly like I had with Cassian. My fingers went to the ward at my neck. Lucien said he improved it but to be careful. I could be careful. 

I replaced the scale back in the jar and returned to Varian’s arm, slowly peeling off a scale from the burned area. Varian winced but he didn’t wake. I’d need to move quickly. Each one came away with soft tugging, the skin underneath barely formed. His burns tore away all the layers of it. A tentative new layer, red and angry, formed with the scale’s supporting their growth. It bled in some places where I removed the scales, weeping blood and yellow exudate. My precise touch lost it’s gentleness when I worked faster. _All my effort to mimic Elain’s tenderness only to forgo it now_ , I chided. 

After I’d cleared a section, I grabbed the jar once more and selected a scale from inside. When I’d reapplied a few, I turned my eyes inward and greeted my magic. The Cauldron had been eager to rise ever since we’d winnowed from the Relaran Pass like it could sense the coming pain and misery. Whenever I touched my magic, I couldn’t help imagining it was similar to grabbing a snake by the neck: the magic was only dangerous if I didn’t have it in a chokehold. The next time I reached my forceps into the jar, I channeled my magic towards summoning more scales. I hadn’t studied them nearly as well as I had Illyrian physiology but I recited the little information I had with their function in mind. I needed something that’d repair the damage to Varian’s arm. What I withdrew from the jar looked exactly like a Water Wraith’s scale except it glittered so brightly, it looked as if it’d been freshly shed. One side was spade shaped, the other rounded. The thickness of it was similar to a fingernail and slightly curved as well. The underlying shade was blue but in the light, a full spectrum of color was visible. As if to set me into motion, a glob of oil splattered my apron again. 

I set to replacing Varian’s old scales with the fresh ones I summoned. Glancing at the tent entrance, each time I delved into my magic my heart jumped. I’d never been skittish but the slightest noise had me jumping in my seat. If the guards outside sensed any magic, they didn’t comment. I assumed Lucien’s ward worked well then but I didn’t press my luck, moving quickly. In mechanical movements, I repeated the same process: reach into the jar, summon my magic, withdraw a scale for inspection and then place it carefully on Varian’s arm. I eyed the ones I’d already set suspiciously but they only innocuously glittered back at me. 

My hair clung to my neck, sweat dripping down my back and between my breasts. My dress was suffocating me. I swore my magic wanted to burn me from the inside out. I now understood how I could smell like smoke: somewhere within me was the fire. When I finished, I tipped out of the stool towards the clean water basin. My magic receded back into me but I thrust my hands into the basin, sighing. I was far too warm. My cheeks felt hot. I scooped water to my face, uncaring that I’d doused my dress from the high neck down to my chest. 

Varian remained asleep, empty bottle of liquor sitting bedside. 

I turned back to the water basin, prepared to scoop more water onto my face. I jumped back. Water splashed the front of my dress again. My heart thundered against my ribcage. I clutched at my chest to keep it from escaping me. I’d only just managed to keep my screech to the barest of cries. I’d never seen my face when I summoned my magic. Amren told me my eyes glowed but I’d been wholly unprepared for what that meant. They were embers or molten metal or the sun itself. My pupils were undetectable within the burning pits. 

My stomach lurched. My body doubled over as I vomited up my dinner onto the floor. I dry heaved for a little. I wiped at my mouth, glaring at the vomit I’d now have to clean up. My head throbbed but I ignored it to sink to the ground, almost soiling my dress in the process. I leaned my head on the bedframe of Varian’s cot. Closing my eyes, I turned my eyes inward to my magic. _Retreat, damn you_ , I hissed. Now was not the time for it to hang around like an unwanted stray.

Only when I was sure my knees would support me did I rise. I stamped a towel over my vomit. If anyone asked, I’d blame Varian. I washed my hands again and peered into the water for a long moment to ensure my eyes had truly reverted back to their cold grey. 

The tent flapped open. I didn’t have to turn to know it was Eris from the sensation of an icy gaze on the back of my neck. “It smells like the forest fire started in here and you’re inspecting your reflection,” he commented. 

Though my skin had cooled, I brought water to my face again to give my hands something to do. When I’d corrected my posture and schooled my features, I turned to face my opponent. “And you’ve not improved your wit since earlier it seems,” I looked him over from head to toe. He sported a nasty bruise on his jaw but otherwise, he was without flaw. His short hair was combed and parted. He wore a new tunic of orange underneath brown leather armor, slashed with red and gold. His sword no longer smelled of blood and smoke. Now that he’d washed, I could pick out the hints of his scent of cardamom. Something sweet tugged at my memories but was made indiscernible by the overwhelming smell of freshly fallen leaves. I was irked to know he didn’t smell like garbage. It was easier to hate someone when they smelled as bad as they acted. 

My eyes went back to his hair. The Autumn Court wasn’t supposed to cut their hair. Lucien said Eris had but I wondered if that was the truth, if maybe Eris hadn’t cut his own. From the bruise on his face, I thought it’d be just another measure of their cruelty towards each other. 

His eyes flashed. “You’re Feyre’s sister.”

“That’s Lady Feyre to you,” I corrected, arching my eyebrow. 

His lips curled. “What did the old hag say? I know no High Lord except the one I am sworn to.” 

“That is unfortunate for you then,” I returned to my seat at Varian’s side. The jar of scales sat at the leg of the stool so I busied myself with resealing the lid. My eyes returned to Varian’s arm as if to confirm the Cauldron itself hadn’t spontaneously manifested. 

Eris didn’t comment. He stepped closer to the bed, eyeing Varian’s arm. “You’ve exceeded your use and welcome. You can leave now.” 

“Lady Cresseida asked that I stay,” I replied, voice flat. The only outward sign of annoyance was the flexing of the blood vessel at his temple. I eyed it in slight wonder. I hoped I annoyed him. He opened his mouth, “You may leave. I’ll let him know you asked for him.” 

His mouth snapped shut. The room began to reheat, sucking all the moisture out of the air. _As if my throat wasn’t dry enough._ Varian’s arm still appeared pink and angry, seepage and oil making it shine. The scales appeared perfectly normal though which I could only sigh in relief. This day had become far too exciting. The Cauldron was already preparing itself for another outing. Eris clucked his tongue, “I do not think he needs a lesser fae hanging on his arm like a leech.” 

I frowned at Varian’s arm before realization hit my mind. I looked back up to Eris, searching his eyes for something intangible. My lips turned up as I found it. “And Varian needs you hanging from his arm like a leech?” I dragged out the word _leech_. Eris’s nostrils flared. I tilted my head to the side slowly. I understood why Cassian did this so often: I could practically taste Eris’s dread. “Or like a mate?” 

Whether it was true or not, I didn’t care. I’d guessed at the truth and that was all that mattered. I’d struck a chord in Eris. I was proud of myself in that moment before he lunged for me. His hand enclosed around my wrist. He yanked me halfway from my stool. The jar of Water Wraith scales spilled from my hand. When my nose was a hand’s width from his and his golden eyes captured mine, he sneered at whatever he saw. “You think you are clever.”

“Not really,” I breathed. “I merely think you are very stupid.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

The most unlikely pair arrived at our tent: Cresseida and Cassian. They stood only a moment in shock at the door. Cassian’s emotioned hurtled at me through the bond, starting with shock and jumping towards unending rage. I hadn’t called for him when Eris grabbed me but my mate had an unerring ability to sense when I needed him. I didn’t see Cassian move, only the flash of his sword as it arced to rest against Eris’s exposed throat. I thought if Eris was anyone else, Cassian wouldn’t have asked. His head would have already been tumbling to the floor. 

“Take your fucking hand off of her,” Cassian growled, eyes having lost their soft hazel appeal. His lips pressed firmly together and nose twitched at every flicker of movement from Eris or I. 

I’d been calm even before Cassian entered the tent. My confidence had only increased now that he was present. Eris didn’t threaten me. There were few that could and they were all prevented from finding me, thanks to my ward. Though Eris, who should have had the self-preservation to at least appear anxious, only scoffed. My eyes went back to the bruise on his jaw. Eris’s eyes slid to Cassian’s. His grip on my wrist hadn’t changed, my hand suspended between us as his hostage. “Take your bastard blade off my neck, mongrel.” 

Cassian pressed his sword deeper into Eris’s neck. A rivulet of blood dripped, following the curve of his throat until it flowered in the collar of his orange tunic. Eris threw away my wrist. I didn’t immediately escape from his reach though Cassian’s insistent gaze almost yanked me across the room. I waited until Eris matched my gaze before tilting my head once more. “Varian should stay asleep for a long while, Cresseida,” I called, watching Eris’s eyes flash. I finally tore my gaze away to sidestep him on my way to Cassian’s side. I slipped my hand around Cassian’s free arm, the one not threatening to decapitate the Heir of the Autumn Court, and tugged barely. He easily recovered, sheathing his sword in its scabbard along his spine and walking with me from the tent.

**Nesta:**

Cassian’s hand guided me at the small of my back through the rows of healers tents. His wing extended slightly outward, shielding me as we walked. Like everyone and everything else, his scent was largely hidden by smoke. Soot dusted his black and silver armor, even obscuring the crimson in his siphons. Only when they pulsed with light would I have been able to spot them if I didn’t already know where to look. 

“I would have come earlier if I knew you were here. I saw Madja but I didn’t think,” he shook his head. His voice was gruff and dry. My eyes flitted to his empty water skin. He spoke quickly, too many thoughts racing behind those restless eyes. His hand on my back tensed and relaxed sporadically. “I only found you by accident. I was about to return to the Pass,” he hissed. 

“I was with Madja,” though I was considerably tall, Cassian’s long strides were making me realize the difference in our heights. 

He scoffed. “Where was Madja then?” 

My eyebrow twitched in irritation. “Despite what you believe, I was fine.” 

He didn’t respond immediately, just inhaled deeply with eyes flicking around the camp. We could have walked in a circle for all I knew but Cassian seemed to have a destination in mind. I guess it would have been too much to return to the Pass for sleep. It was halfway through the night already. 

“Where the fuck are they?” he looked about. “Oh fuck it, we’re taking whatever tents empty.” I frowned but followed him deeper into the Dawn Court’s camp. His hair was untied and I didn’t see the leather strap tied around his wrist. He must have lost it throughout the day. The awful scent of rotting eggs greeted my nose when the wind blew in his direction: burning hair. I seized momentarily, almost stumbling. Cassian’s hand at my back caught my elbow, steadying me. He was in front of me, chest to mine, in a second. “Nes? What is it?” he lifted my chin, speaking low so no one would hear. 

I caught the hand on my face and squeezed it tightly. I kept my face neutral. “Your wings?” His heart raced in my ears but my eyes saw the proof in his muscled neck. The blood vessel pulsed rapidly. I watched it hungrily, forgetting how comforting his heartbeat was to me. 

His eyes softened and a warm smile flashed through his mask. It fell away just as quick as it came, replaced by the detached expression he usually wore in the camps. To the outside observer, he was assessing me. Commanding and intent, his hand held my chin firmly. To me, he was worried. This was our dance. 

“Let me worry over them,” he shrugged though his voice was soft for me. 

“That’s exactly what concerns me,” I muttered. 

He shrugged again but didn’t attempt to tell me my fears were misfounded. “We’re staying here for the night. Mor is too exhausted to winnow back and I guess Azriel is lost in the shadows somewhere, can’t find a single  _ damn  _ one of them,” he growled irritably. “Thesan’s given us a tent somewhere. We’re just going to claim one and I fucking hope that doesn’t cause an issue, sensitive fucking fae.” he hissed. 

It was an effort to keep my hands wrapped around my waist. I wanted to grab his wrist and stop our forward march. Shrug the mask and find out what had Cassian so riled but expectation set my feet in motion. This was a part of our dynamic that we wear these masks. They embittered me. “What will Madja do?” We marched further and further from the chaos of the camp. The noise all but faded to our quiet and gruff conversation.

“Madja?” Cassian questioned. I hadn’t even told her where I went off to though with Cassian as my mate, I doubted she would wonder long. I’d hear about it in the morning for sure. “Madja doesn’t sleep.” 

“Of course she does.” 

“I know you think she does but she doesn’t. She says she’s too old, sleep does nothing for her,” he shrugged. “I’m sure someone in the Dawn Court would fall over themselves to get her a tent if she asked.” At my confused expression, he rolled his eyes with a vaguely amused smile flitting over his lips. “Any chance to pull information out of our Master Night Court healer would not be ignored. This is probably the first time since the War that the other Courts have even seen the Illyrians. We may be warmongering bastards but we keep ourselves entertained in the north. Rhysand’s grandfather forbade the Illyrian’s from starting battles with the neighboring Court.”

We walked along a dark row of tents, far from the center of the camp. Cassian was sniffing as he went, nose wrinkling. “I don’t see you listening to an order.” 

He barked a laugh. “No it wasn’t an order. He commanded it. The Illyrians ignored it of course. I mean,  _ I  _ would have ignored it too. He sent a letter afterall,” Cassian frowned as if letters were as vague and irrelevant as smoke signals. He stopped in front of a dark tent, blue in the moonlight. He opened the flap for me and ushered me into the dark space. Impatient as always, he followed right on my heels and almost sent me sprawling. My foot connected with some furniture. If it wasn’t for Cassian’s hand wrapping around my waist, I would have fallen down. His relieved exhale brushed against my exposed neck. “He fought and beat each one. Illyrians have kept to the Night Court since as the next High Lords upheld the standard, fighting and killing those who tested the law,” he continued the story, waiting for me to right myself. “Illyrians respond to power and only power.” 

“And bloodline,” I added, pressing my apron flat though it was fully soiled. I direly wanted to wash. Cassian pressed closer, reaching into the dark with ease and then fitting something into my hand. Cylindrical and waxy.  _ A candle _ . I found the wick and lit it instantly. The flame’s glow was nothing compared to the light my eyes produced, now reflected in Cassian’s face. His pupils shrunk to pin-sized holes, making his joy seem untamed and wild. I hadn’t even considered using my magic and now I wished I hadn’t, glancing away. 

“Same thing,” he shook his head, eyes following me. “Magic follows bloodlines.” 

“Not yours,” I set the candle down. A single cot and bedside table. The tent was so small that Cassian had to lean over me, his wings flattened over his back. It would have felt cramped with me alone. With Cassian’s imposing form, the tent was full to capacity. 

His amusement vanished. “My magic came from some other bastard afterall. I just don’t share the name.” 

“Then why don’t they follow you if it’s all about power?” 

He narrowed his eyes, full lips pressing together to form a thin and irritated line. “They do,” he answered flatly. 

I wasn’t so easily deterred. I crossed my arms around my waist. “Not without grumbling.” 

“Because a bastard threatens their neat little power system. Keep the magic in the family, they can control the rest of the band. That way all the Illyrian bands are controlled and they can keep their power. A bastard with power...I could take it from them,” his words started harsh but they finished on a tired note. His shoulders slumped. I hated that look on him. It was foreign to the male I knew that was full of vigor. I hated the mask he wore around the Illyrians. It was necessary but it took the male I loved away from me. I could see well beneath it’s hard exterior and also where it ate away at him. 

“Why don’t you?” 

His hazel eyes caught the light when they lit upon mine. “I could ask you the same thing, Nes.” Having remembered where we were, he began the arduous process of shedding his armor. I stepped forward without him having to ask, batting his hands away to handle the buckles. He thanked me with a smile. I took the close proximity to smell him. It took a deep inhale to get to the cedar. 

I smiled to myself. I undid the fastening of his back scabbard, placing his dual swords by the bedside. “Why don’t I claim the Illyrian title for myself?” I asked him, eyes flicking to his as I worked the side buckles of his armor. “I don’t see gaining a tribe of miscreants.” 

“A  _ tribe? _ ” Cassian choked. “Illyrians do not form tribes. We form  _ bands _ ,” he corrected. 

“That doesn’t sweeten the offer,” I quipped. 

“I  _ meant  _ why don’t you go out and claim a title for yourself then? You ask me why I don’t go claim a Lordship. Go ahead, explain your logic, sweetheart,” his hands untied my apron, tossing the soiled fabric on the ground. He spun me around to work the buttons of my dress. 

I rolled my eyes but I gave it some thought. The truth was I didn’t want it. Nothing about a title appealed to me and the idea of receiving an accolade for my disgusting magic was sickening. Cassian freed the buttons with practiced ease till my dress pooled at my feet. I cringed at knowing I’d have to wear it again tomorrow. I suppressed a moan when my corset loosened.  _ I’d need breast bindings when I healed,  _ I reminded myself. Though I liked the silhouette of a corset and was far more comfortable within them, sweating was an issue. “Och,” Cassian clucked. “I didn’t mean to tie the corset so tight,” his finger trailed over the ridges in my back where the corset left its mark.

I shook my head, spine tingling from his touch. “It was perfect. It was just a long day.” His hands went next to my braid or whatever remained of it. I didn’t have a comb so I’d need to rebraid it if I ever expected to manage it in the morning. Cassian’s fingers threading through my hair threatened that plan. 

“As I saw,” he commented dryly.

“I was safe.” 

He tilted my head back, resting against his collarbone. “You wouldn’t have used your magic against him, Nes,” it wasn’t a question. “And Eris can and will hurt you. If he did,” Cassian’s hand left my hair to raise my wrist where Eris grabbed me.There was no bruise or mark to ever show it happened. “If he did, tonight would have ended differently. I want you to stay with Madja.” 

“And hide behind an old healer?” 

“She didn’t get so old by being weak, Nes,” he chided softly. 

I nodded. I knew that. 

“So what did you say to get under his skin?” he asked, bowing his head to my bare shoulder. I didn’t feel bare in front of him even though we both stood naked, reduced to underthings. He emanated heat that kept the brisk night air from my skin, his arms curling me further into his embrace. 

“Anything I said got under his skin,” I sighed. “But at the moment, I suggested he might care for Varian.” 

“You’re certainly not pulling punches,” Cassian chuckled. “Nes, the next time you threaten someone, would you do it when I’m there to protect you? Saying things like that could have evoked something more dangerous from Eris.” 

“You were there and he seems much more under control than a certain Illyrian.” 

“That wasn’t out of control,” Cassian said softly, thumb smoothing over my wrist. “If he grabs you again, I’ll show you out of control.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though firmly displaced and uncomfortable, I enjoyed my night with Cassian. The bed looked too fragile to hold either of us so we moved the bedding to the floor. Cassian had collapsed onto his back at the meager show of comfort so I rode him in deference to his long day. However, he didn’t show a single ounce of exhaustion when his hands dug into my thighs and he arced into me with desperate need.

Any hope of collecting my hair and appearance vanished in the morning light. My mood worsened when I slipped back on my sweat-stained dress and mucky apron. Cassian did his best to braid my hair with surprising deftness. “My hair is far less manageable than this silk,” he chuckled, fingers playing with the tail of my long braid. He hadn’t recreated my usual style but I immensely appreciated having my hair neatly pulled away from my face. 

My dismay at wearing my dingy dress vanished when I helped Cassian back into his armor. His tunic was stiff from dried sweat and dirt. I cringed when my fingers touched the fabric. “A bath tonight,” he nodded, opening the tent flap for me. 

We crossed back into the fray of the war camp, eyes searching for the rest of our family. We didn’t find Mor or Azriel.  _ Or Rhysand. Or Feyre _ , my mind reminded me. Though we did see something that had my heart stopping. In the Dawn Court’s camp, Cresseida, Varian, Eris and another red-haired fae I assumed as Eris’s brother stood around in a circle. Varian standing almost knocked me flat. He should have been bedridden in pain. 

_ Had a healer seen him?  _ I knew the moment I voiced the question that it was a vain hope.

The extent of Varian’s healed arm was confirmed when it seized the front of the red-haired male’s red tunic. Cassian’s hand on my back bunched in my dress’s fabric, stopping our approach. Without even a hint of injury, Varian hauled the male to his face, “Speak about my sister like that and I’ll kill you,” he hissed, teeth bared. The red-haired fae said something unintelligible but Varian tossed him back. “Mind your tongue, Jules.” Done with the male, Varian and Cresseida left Eris and Jules behind, completely heedless that they had an audience. When I looked back to the Autumn Court males, Eris was looking back at me. 


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (03/09): so like....emotions, am i right?
> 
> I just really am going to enjoy the new dynamics we will be seeing soon.
> 
> One and Only - Adele   
> Texas Sun - Khruangbin & Leon Bridges

**Feyre:**

Leaving Rhysand only hurt if I thought about it. Or breathed at all. In the short time I’d been in front of my mate, the bond between us had resurrected. The bond was steadily tugging us back into each other's arms though there was still a distance between us. When he’d seen my ears and my shame flared to its height, I still felt the need to curl into his arms. It made no sense. How could I feel safest in his arms when I wanted to hide myself from his sight? 

When I reappeared on the island, tears had started at the corner of my eyes. My throat closed. I felt when the ward shut Rhysand away from me as sure as I did the knife wounds in my abdomen. 

The island was dark and quiet, save for the breeze rustling the leaves. I didn’t bother walking the entire stretch. I winnowed straight into my bedroom. All my magical channels were open in a way I’d never experienced before. I used to select one of the Court’s magic and adopt it, transforming myself to fit the magic. Now, each magic laid before me and blended together. There was no difference anymore. The bargain with Tamlin had shifted something inside me, aligning it or removing the blockage. All seven magics pooled in the same well within me and somehow that allowed winnowing to come under my control as well. 

The rules of magic eluded me. Rhysand and I had contemplated my magic and his for hours, asking questions with no answers. I needed him now. I needed more than he would know too because his knowledge of his own magic was complete but that left six parts of me unfulfilled. I feared I would need to relearn all my magic if I was ever to get used to their unified presence within me. I pressed my eyes shut at the coming headache and my welling tears. Frustration bubbled up inside me. _One step forward and seven backwards._

“I did not expect to see you.” 

I took a moment with my back turned to Jurian to clear my expression. He’d probably already scented the salt of my tears but that’s all he’d get. Shifting my shoulders back, I faced him. He leaned casually in the doorway, dressed in the loose fitting tunic and pants. He looked sweaty but that wasn’t new for him. The odd part was the bruise square on his cheek. 

“I thought when you left today without another word that’d be the end,” he shrugged, stepping inside my room. He glanced around the empty compartment, sniffing delicately. “That you’d leave me on this rock with Drakon, Miryam and their _everlasting happiness_ ,” he grumbled. 

“I did leave you,” I retorted. “Can’t exactly have you blabbering on about this island.” 

“Not a single fae in Prythian would care in the middle of a war,” he examined his nail bed. “Unless of course Drakon is offering to join,” his eyes flicked to mine, dark and consuming. He cursed. I hadn’t flinched or moved a muscle but Jurian had his answer before I’d even opened my mouth. “Of course he’d join the war. Noble and all that shit.” Jurian rolled his whole head along with his eyes, greasy-chin length hair dangling in front of his eyes. 

“And you?” I asked. “Would you join the war?” _Are you noble, Jurian?_

His eyes slid to mine, lips widening into a smile that would have curdled milk. “Just point and I’ll kill, Cursebreaker.” He sighed, sitting where my window was. He ignored the fact no glass prevented him from tipping backwards and falling likely to his death. “Not that a single person on this island would willingly arm me. Not while Miryam is pregnant.” 

“And how’d you pick that one out?” I wonder if he knew Miryam was my healer. Her scent wouldn’t have lingered so long for him to pick it up now but he surprised me with what he could deduce. 

“Because Miryam would have already found me and explained herself. But she’s kept away and elusive. Only one reason she’d stay far _far_ away from a rogue male,” Jurian breathed out tiredly. The blue moonlight made Jurian unreal to me, just a shadow or a painting of a male. The sadness in his features was too absolute and devastating to belong to someone living. It was not hard to forget how Drakon and Miryam cut ties with Jurian, believing him cruel and beyond hope. However, it was very easy to forget that Jurian had, before all his viciousness in the War, loved Miryam. He became a General to secure a free life for himself and Miryam. 

Then he went and opened his mouth again and I forgot everything nice about this wretched male. “So why aren’t you with your mate and starting where you left off on that _everlasting happiness_ , hm?” he eyed me. “What? Decide you like being miserable? Or did Rhysand mistake you for a human?” 

My features tightened and I glowered. “Where is Drakon?” I asked, instead. I didn’t need to defend myself. I felt the words coming before they’d been swept aside with the single and humbling thought: I _am_ human. I’ve never stopped being human. 

He raised an eyebrow. The bruise on his cheek only darkened. I wondered what Jurian said, who he provoked this time. “Well,” he breathed out, glancing around our dark room as if searching for something. “It _is_ night so I _assume_ sleeping like a normal person,” he cocked his head. I stared at him flatly. “Not everyone is nocturnal like Rhysand and you, Feyre.” 

“I need to speak with him.” The mention of my mate made me reach for the bond that was beyond my reach. Urgency filled me to move faster. 

“Sure, if you can find him. And if you want to risk that wrath.” 

I strode into the halls. “I’ll risk it.” 

“There is a line between stupidity and bravery, Feyre, and you tend to be terrible at defining it,” he followed me out, making long strides to keep up with mine. “What is it about? What war plans has Rhysand dreamed up?” 

“No war plans, Jurian.” Automatically annoyed that Jurian assumed I’d act as carrier pigeon for my mate’s plans. Rhysand could speak for himself as I could too. 

“Did you not tell him? Anything else you’re hiding from your one and only?” Jurian waggled his eyebrows. “How about Tamlin? How’d _that_ go over?” 

I stopped mid-stride, planting my feet and hands on my hips. I glared at him. “Why are you intent on angering me? Is that what you did to get punched? Aggravate the wrong person?” I hadn’t yet a plan for any of these things he mentioned but I’d find a way. 

“Well when you didn’t show up for training with Tamlin, I figured I’d step in. Turns out, he doesn’t take taunting in strides. Particularly stoic tonight,” Jurian leaned in, conspiratorial smile on his lips. He whispered, “I figure it’s because you’ve run off and he can’t spend the night hating himself in your presence as he loves to do.” 

“I’ll punch you myself if you keep talking,” I turned away to see a familiar pair of wings. “Tadeo.” 

The seraphim male approached us at a slow pace, hand on his sword and eyes inquisitive. They darted between Jurian and I. “Lady Feyre,” he nodded to me though his gaze never left Jurians. “What are you doing up?”

“Is Drakon awake?” I asked. 

“He wasn’t asking you, Cursebreaker,” Jurian retorted, patting my shoulder. “I got thirsty. Needed some water.” Tadeo’s brows furrowed. His hand never left his sword’s pommel. If this was the popular reaction to Jurian, it was no wonder why I only saw him in the nighttime. 

My eyes still focused where Jurian had touched me. Not only was that unappreciated by me, I couldn’t help but think that Rhysand wouldn’t be overjoyed by Jurian’s looming presence either. Then a smile found its way across my lips that I’d be lucky to watch the chaos that ensued between the two. It refocused me on my task. I pushed past Jurian to step between the two males that faced off. “Where is Drakon? I need to speak with him.” 

“In the Assembly Room, Lady Feyre,” Tadeo answered. 

I moved and Jurian moved with me. Tadeo stopped us both though he shied away from touching me. His hand hovered just in front of my chest, fingers partially extended. He cringed when he met my eyes but glared when they returned to Jurian’s. “Miryam is with him. Jurian, you can remain with me.” 

“Ask _Lady Feyre._ I’m perfectly civilized,” Jurian nodded unconvincingly. He was very bold for someone who was being glared at. I almost wanted to tell Tadeo not to worry, Jurian was a reformed feral beast, but I stayed silent. 

“Stay here,” I shook my head, marching beyond Tadeo and Jurian. Jurian frowned at me, eyes narrowing. Tadeo kept him firmly in place though I could see the longing in Jurian’s eyes. He wanted to follow and Tadeo had no idea how desperate that desire was. 

Jurian said I didn’t know the difference between bravery and stupidity. I begged to differ. There was no way I would bring Jurian with me if Drakon _and_ Miryam were present. My own instincts were annoying as they were; I couldn’t imagine them if I were pregnant. My train of thought gave me pause. I had to collect myself before joining the mated pair in the Assembly room, where Drakon had met with me first. 

I’d interrupted something private. I knew it the moment I entered. Miryam’s bare feet were propped up in Drakon’s lap and they were chuckling softly. Miryam’s hand idly stroked her belly. Drakon had a mound of books in front of him, all of them ancient and well-worn, that he ignored in favor of massaging Miryam’s feet. 

I felt intrusive. 

They looked up with varying levels of surprise. “Feyre,” Miryam greeted. “We didn’t…” she glanced at her mate. “We didn’t expect to see you so soon.” The room smelled of a hot meal, like a stew. Their empty bowls offended me like those should have been a meal between my mate and I. I wanted that back again. 

“Or at all. Is something wrong?” Drakon’s dark brows furrowed. His wings fluttered, whipping my hair with the breeze. He was already halfway to rising from his seat. 

I raised my hand, pausing him. There was nothing to be done except come right out and say it. It was funny how tongue-tied my mate could make me but with others, all my bashfulness went out the door. This was business. “Nothing is wrong. I’ve come to ask if Rhysand might come to the island,” 

They glanced at each other. Multiple candles and torches in the room couldn’t do away with the shadows in their faces, under their eyes as their worry mounted. “What for?” Drakon asked. “I never thought Rhysand would want to step away from the war front.” 

“Only briefly.” 

“I ask again, what for?” Drakon’s hand strayed to Miryam’s stomach. I took this as a sign of overprotectiveness. His instincts wouldn’t welcome much change. Tamlin, Jurian and I’s arrival had already stressed him. Another foreigner, even an old ally, could feel dangerous. 

“You shouldn’t winnow so often, Feyre. You’re still healing,” Miryam frowned. She wore a nightgown frayed and torn at the edges. Her hair was unbraided and curly around her face like a halo. Despite being ready for bed, she still wore the intricate silver earrings curling around her long, tipped ears. 

“I feel fine,” and I did. I’d barely tapped my magical reservoir. My body and my mind were a whole different deal but my magic was unstrained. Miryam still held her frown, eyes reassessing me for evidence of a lie. Drakon squinted at me as well, looking for my injuries too. 

“What is so urgent?” Drakon pressed. He had a nose for sniffing things out. I wondered when he’d guess about my magic. When he’d realize I wasn’t some normal fae. There was too much history to catch him up in one night. He’d have to learn as we went along or not at all. I was in favor of keeping private matters to myself, especially after feeling so recently vulnerable. The less they knew, the safer I was. 

_What is so urgent?_ I asked. So urgent that I interrupt them like a messenger in the night? I’d tell them what’s so urgent: _closure_. The sooner I could shove Tamlin from my life and Rhysand could do the same, the sooner we could put this shit behind us. 

_But you’ve ensured it won’t ever be behind you_ , my inner voice whispered nastily. I raised my chin. I had made a bargain with Tamlin but if that is the price I pay for the security of my Court, I’d let that wound fester inside me with glee. 

It was Miryam who read my face. Her eyes picked it apart and tore out the answer for herself. Her own history having gone something similar to my own, of course she’d understand first. She reached a hand over to her mate. “It is needed, love,” she whispered. 

Drakon struggled to understand the communication between us but failed. His eyes searching his mate before coming up empty. With a resolved expression, he nodded to me.

**Feyre:**

Rhysand sat in the snow and watched the waves crash on the shore. His wrists crossed over his knees. Wind blew his hair back and paled his brown skin, adding a cold flush to his cheeks. Though his wings were bent awkwardly, he kept them out. They expanded in the wind and absorbed the moonlight, letting none reflect off. Maybe it was a part of his magic to absorb all light. I watched him comfortably for a moment. His ears flicked now and again but he didn’t let it show if he knew I was present or not. We were perfectly content to watch the coming dawn sky. 

I always thought there was always something searching in his gaze. When he wore his mask, it was all easy confidence and self-assurance. That vanished the moment he was alone. A question worked itself into his violet eyes and they moved around, quickly. Like how he looked up at the night sky, eyes moving over the constellations he must know by name and heart, and yet he continued looking. Looking like something would answer him back. 

I couldn’t stand away for very long. I saw the space between his legs and knew I’d fit perfectly, curled up against his chest and under his chin. I stepped onto the snow-crusted sand, my foot breaking the pristine surface with an audible crunch. The sound might have been lost in the wind to a human but not my half-fae, half-Illyrian mate. 

“Rhysand,” I called. 

His head snapped to the side, ears flicking in my direction. He hadn’t known I was there. I closed the distance between us. “I thought you said it’d be a while,” he answered hoarsely. I lowered myself into the snow next to him even though I would’ve crawled into his arms willingly. All my desires and instincts clashed with my shame and need for solitude. In some way, I needed to relearn myself too before Rhysand could. 

_ There it is _ , I sighed.  _ I don’t know myself.  _ I leaned against him anyway.  _ Was I broken like Tamlin now? Would all my loved ones cut themselves on my edges like a piece of broken glass?  _ There was no telling. I glanced at my mate. His gaze was ahead but his attention was on me. His magic and mind circling me like it’d make a cocoon around my existence. It felt something close to being held. I sighed in his citrus scent and the salt of the sea. 

“I’ve been away a few hours, I think,” I had no sense of time.  _ Or direction.  _

He chuckled lowly. I raised a confused eyebrow. His smile infected me, my own lips curling even though I didn’t understand the joke. Sharing tentative happiness with my mate gave me a glimpse into what our future would be if we let it happen. “I waited twenty years to meet you, Feyre,” he replied. “My whole life really.” 

“And were you ready to wait another twenty?” I asked, incredulous. 

All mirth vanished when he looked at me, violet eyes impossibly wide and depthless. “And more.” His hand cupped the back of my head, tipping my head to press a kiss to my forehead. My throat closed. How long would he have to wait for me to figure out the mess my mind had become? “Ah,” he sighed. “None of that, darling.” His hand resumed its place on the small of my back, rubbing comforting circles. Now that the ward no longer barred us, he was intune to all my emotions; as much as I wished to hide them all, I didn’t possess the willpower to block him out from me. “You are worth every moment.” 

I ducked my head to rest on his shoulder. “Where do they think you are?” 

He didn’t need clarification. He smiled. “If they have at all realized my absence that is,” he shook his head. “Elain had to distract our overprotective family to let me slip away.” 

“And how did she manage that?” 

“She became a talented Seer,” he answered cryptically. His words tweaked at my heart. She’d become that Seer because of me. The guilt alone would have eaten her soft heart alive if she hadn’t channeled it. Just as she sat for hours tending her garden, I could picture her eyes vacant, searching her visions endlessly for details and glimpses of a future that was right. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault. I was the true fool. “I will admit that was in part because she returned to the Day Court for her training,” at my raised brows, he added, “But I’ll never say that to Lucien or Helion or within earshot of anyone with a pulse.” 

I squinted at my mate. “Have you two sisters now?” 

He smiled sheepishly but then it shifted into something teasing, “I don’t think Nesta would agree and Elain might have some objections.” 

“Most definitely,” I grinned, imagining Nesta’s glaring eyes of steel. It was funny how eyes that once reduced me had become a fond memory. I missed my sisters and the quiet semblance of companionship we developed. When I tried to envision seeing them again, I couldn’t. Just like with Rhysand, I couldn’t see the details at the moment. I just hoped for the end result of us all being normal once more. 

Rhysand’s face grew solemn. “Should we see this island?” 

“As long as you promise not to startle Drakon. He’s a little skittish since Miryam’s pregnant,” I replied. 

“It’s a miracle he agreed.” Rhysand nodded, looking thoughtful. He helped me rise from the snow. We both had to dust off our wet pants and bottoms, the situation hopeless for improvement. “I don’t think my mother left Velaris when she was pregnant. Actually, I am not sure she even flew during that time.” 

“Miryam helped. Was it difficult to fly while pregnant?” I wasn’t sure how we took this turn in the conversation but I continued it. I’d continue it until it stung. I braced myself. 

“Illyrian women have their wings clipped so we never would know,” he replied. 

My mouth popped open. My heart lurched. 

“Yes,” he dipped his head, eyes sad as he answered my unspoken question and demand. “We’ll not let that go. As for my mother, my father didn’t allow her much freedom to begin with. Flying while pregnant would have been out of the question. I can’t say that is abnormal. Pregnancy is rare. The chance of an accident occurring brings too severe a consequence to risk it. The Court usually shields them away. Lady Juliette wasn’t seen for almost fifty years by any of her relatives while she was pregnant.”

“She had seven children though.” It was hard to carry on a conversation I could only half-heartedly consider. My abdomen tightened. A question I hadn’t even considered before now seemed to be all I could think about. 

“Which is incredibly rare and if I didn’t respect Lady Juliette, I’d say it was an abnormality.” 

“Well that could be Beron’s fault then,” I agreed. 

Rhysand blanched. “I wished the male was impotent.” 

I snorted. “Don’t we all?” I took my mate’s hand and shifted my weight onto my heels. “Hold tight,” I warned.

“Always.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The island glittered in the pre-dawn light. This time, I winnowed to where I knew Tamlin would be: the section of woods, secluded and far from where others would find him. Whether he returned to his rooms at all remained to be seen. I guessed Jurian would be secluded in the castle, either from Tadeo or having been sedated till he could have passed for a corpse. Perhaps both. I didn’t think Drakon would take this news well. If anything, he should count himself fortunate that Jurian had free reign of the palace this entire time and chose to spend his time harassing Tamlin and I. 

Jurian and I knew of this place and none others. On the western side of the volcano, it was shielded from the early light and still blue. Mist clung to the jungle foliage. The air was crisp and told of a humid day. Flowers were closed up and waiting on the sun to fully bloom. The frigid cold from the Night Court fell away. Rhysand’s hand still clung to mine. His wings flexed a little, stretching out after winnowing. He didn’t search the terrain but I trusted he was already mapping it. The air was rich with nitrous soil and fresh rain. Above it all, I could place Tamlin’s scent of roses and earth which somehow managed to set itself apart from the island’s unique smell. 

Rhysand’s hand squeezed mine when he smelled it too. Every muscle in his body went tense, his face freezing. As much as Tamlin had hurt him through me, there was more behind Rhysand’s pain. Whether or not Tamlin had killed Rhysand’s mother and sister or was only present, he was still responsible. 

Then we were walking, striding through the forest while wet plants whipped across our thighs. Our approach was noisy which told me that Tamlin and Rhysand were well aware of each other’s presence. My suspicions confirmed when we reached the clearing. Tamlin stood rigid in the center. Sweat clung to him and the blue, loose fitting tunic and pants he wore. His hair was swept back and equally greasy as Jurian’s had been. Despite having obviously been working through his routine, he wasn’t out of breath. 

His exercise didn’t cover up the decay evident in him. His tan skin was pale and always had a sickly green tint instead of the normal rosiness. His eyes had yellowed somewhat, seeming to sink into his skull or melt into the dark purple pools beneath them. I’d seen him eat but nothing stuck, losing mass with each coming day. 

As he pivoted to face us fully, the slit of his tunic gave a glimpse of the bargain tattoo I’d made. I hadn’t seen it in full; I wondered how much skin it took up. If, for the rest of his days, he’d wear proof of his shame. 

Tamlin’s eyes flicked between the two of us, lips set in a thin line. Whatever he thought of Rhysand and his wings, he kept it well shielded. Unreadable thoughts worked behind the green iris. His face was devoid of all emotion. When Tamlin finished watching us, he looked down. It drew my eyes to the bandaged stump of his left hand. It was healed now but he kept it bandaged anyway. For once, I related to the sentiment. 

I wondered if I hadn’t killed Brannagh how different things had been. Tamlin would have his hand but more importantly, Dagdan would never have stabbed me. Maybe he would’ve eventually when he lost his temper. I asked myself the question all the time: how important was it to kill Brannagh? I told myself it was necessary but my traitorous thoughts reminded me if I’d been a stronger daemati, I would’ve been able to withstand her assault. 

I waited for one of them to speak but they remained fixed in place. My mate’s attention was on Tamlin though Tamlin kept his head down. Birds chirped while the island came to life around us. 

“My time to take revenge has ended,” Rhysand said, voice clear but rough. Tamlin’s head jerked up to meet my mate’s eyes. His wings hadn’t moved but they seemed to take in all the light again, as if the sun had no sway over him. Rhysand’s hand was tight and frozen around mine. I couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. He was stuck in the past. All sounds past his voice seemed to stop. It was just us three in this wood, in this world. “It’s Feyre’s choice and she has decided. Your life is in her hands.” The way he spoke made it clear that if my decision was that Tamlin should lose his life, my mate would ensure my wishes were granted. 

Tamlin didn’t speak but he nodded, eyes flitting to mine briefly. There was no resentment in them, just acceptance. He looked back down at his hand, opening and closing it. “I know,” he rasped. 

Rhysand’s other hand found the small of my back. When we turned our backs, I didn’t feel vulnerable. His arm snaked around my waist to draw me close. His eyes were searching the air again. He swallowed tightly. I curled my magic around his this time. We walked quietly through the forest back to where a path formed that winded upwards towards the palace. In the early morning, there wasn’t a soul to witness us crossing the grassy field after the forest vanished. My hand fell away to brush over the tips of the grass, collecting dew. 

As we walked through a foreign land, my mate wasn’t seeing it now. His eyes still looked for something else. My feet guided us to the open stairwell leading into the stone-carved palace, up and up to where my room resided. We slipped through the quiet hallways and I thanked the Mother we went uninterrupted, neither of our minds prepared for anything other than sleep. I led us to my room in the healers wing. 

My empty room was pink and yellow while the sun filtered in. The bed was still made and nightstand empty save for a basin for washing. In a blink, it was swept away by a field of black only my mate and I could navigate. In answer, I added stars to my mate’s unending night. I crawled onto the narrow cot, pulling him down besides me. He pulled me into the crook of his arm. I nestled my face over his chest. His wings were pinned beneath him in a way that couldn’t have been completely comfortable but they splayed out around us like a barrier and so they stayed. I yawned. Tentatively, I laid my hand over his heartbeat. He buried his face into the crown of my hair and breathed in deeply. 

“Sleep,” I whispered. “I’ll be here,” I nodded tiredly against him. His muscles relaxed under me at my admission. His magic pressed against mine before relaxing itself. His hand remained tight at my waist. In a few moments, his breath and heart had evened out. I listened to the steady rhythm until my eyes fluttered closed too. 


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (03/13): gotta trust me on this, alright?  
> (03/12): we interrupt this fluffy romance for plot relevant crap, so sorry. Don't worry, we shall return tomorrow.  
> (03/11): SO I'm here to do two things: a) fix morrigan's plot line and b) write a happy ending and I've Done Both  
> (03/10): This is literally twice the original length it was meant to be lmao so sorry. I'm so long winded, I hope it's not tedious. Did I not say I was excited/happy for new dynamics? Expect this chapter to be updated. 
> 
> If it makes you happy - Sheryl Crow  
> Bonnie and Clyde - Brigitte Bardot & Serge Gainsbourg

**Morrigan:**

I had watched Varian rush Tarquin’s burning figure with horror freezing me, starting at my gut while icicles branched into my veins. A scream caught halfway through my throat. I’d been there by accident. I wanted to see Cresseida with a silly request of dining with her tonight. The day was winding down. The Autumn Court had declared they’d stop their flames when the sun was two fingers above the horizon and we were approaching that rapidly. 

Cassian and Azriel glared when I said I wanted to spend my dinner with the Summer Court. Rhysand was still absent. Though Elain had declared he was perfectly fine and _would indeed_ return, the two insisted on thinking he was missing. I let them to their fussiness. I couldn’t tell if they realized it or not. There was a reason Rhysand hadn’t returned with Feyre yet. They insisted I demand Amren hunt for the two but I shrugged that away immediately. They didn’t _mean_ to be overly protective bastards but both their brains were missing the obvious: our High Lord and Lady would return when they were ready. I kept myself from wondering why they wouldn’t be but I knew anyway. 

After my own father had drilled a nail through my abdomen, declaring for the world to see what his thoughts were, it took me a century to return home. I spent the first month healing and then I left. I couldn’t stand sitting inside Velaris while my body felt rotten on the inside. I didn’t want to look at Cassian or Azriel. Especially Azriel considering it was he who found me in the woods that day. Sitting with them made me sick with the thoughts I made up in my mind of what they thought of me. 

In the initial fallout, when it felt as if the entire world had come to realize what I’d done, Rhysand had been irritated. His father even more so but I wasn’t for his father to discipline but Rhysand was and as the male who brought me to the Illyrian camp, it was his fault. After my own family got through with me, Rhysand’s feelings changed completely. But I didn’t want my cousin's eyes on me. In a brief moment I had been liberated, free from the Autumn Court and in the next: I was a victim with no escape.

It took me a century to realize I’d made the right decision. In that time I came to terms with my shame and though I never wanted the title of my father’s seat before, that changed as well. I didn’t want others to go through what I had. Though I knew that meant I could not show who I was or my father would legally be able to disinherit me. He could shame me but he couldn’t disinherit me unless I lost my magic or I lost my ability to produce an heir. As my period returned though he had tried to destroy my womb, Kier had no choice but to accept I was his heir. My mother never gave him another child though he definitely would have tried. I’d always wanted sisters but I realized how lucky it was I did not have a sibling he could hurt me through.

Four centuries later and I was nearly throwing out all the rules I’d put in place for myself. My father was not a league away and here I was, jogging to where the Summer Court put out the flames with a skip in my step. _Idiot_ , I sighed. That didn’t stop my heart from leaping when I scented the lemon of Cresseida’s scent above the river water and flames. It wasn’t pure lemon either. I’d decided it was like a lemon dessert, maybe a lemon cake because it was so sweet. 

The Autumn Court stood in a line from oldest to youngest, each delivering a wave of flames that torched the brush. If Hybern’s soldiers shot arrows, they were incinerated instantaneously. I was nearly fifty paces away and the heat was unbearable. My pants chaffed my inner thighs. To the east, any in the Summer Court who possessed the water magic helped to contain the blaze by standing south of the Andros and channeling its water. Somewhere west and south, the Night Court Dark Bringers had been searching the brush for survivors. Illyrians kept behind the blockade, readying for an ambush. 

I was just in time to watch High Lord Beron pull his flames back suddenly. The roaring in my ears died by half even though his four sons continued the blaze. He said something that was lost in the sound of an arrow, whistling by him and hitting Tarquin behind him. In a flash, Beron had unleashed a fire more wild than anything he’d released before. But Tarquin lost his magic the moment the faebane hit his system and was no match to contain the fire Beron produced. 

Several Summer Court fae attempted to contain Beron’s fire but fae’s fire wasn’t likely normal fire. It burned hotter for longer, more efficient in how it consumed and left nothing in its wake. Tarquin’s magic was needed and Tarquin was nearly consumed by the fire. Varian rushed for his High Lord. I was in horror, prepared to watch the High Lord burn to death and perhaps the Prince of Adriata as well. Cresseida’s screaming shook me as she ordered the fae to support her brother, protect their High Lord. Her magic was focused on keeping the flames at bay; if she let go, the flames would grow and consume. Her terror moved me forward. I launched to help, the next words from my mouth were orders to the Illyrians, commanding them to pull out who they could. 

The forest was a mess of flames and smoke. One minute Tarquin had stood among the trees, directing a calm flow of water towards the fire and the next he and many of his Court vanished into the blaze. Dense ash caught in my lungs, burning out all the moisture. My magic was unequipped for this but my hands were capable. I pulled out whoever I reached first. I trusted Cresseida to eventually tame the flames. In the meantime, we needed to rescue the rest. Unfortunately, Tarquin led the entire Summer Court and was furthest from my reach and help. 

Three consecutive trips, each time I’d dragged out another severely burned fae. They were all minor lords and ladies I’d met with at some point but I avoided studying them too long. Each of their burns from the initial heat wave was a mess of red and yellow. It looked as if the skin had come straight off and the muscle itself was blistering, striations from the tissue evident. Some of their skin had charred, flaking away. If my throat wasn’t so dry, it would have closed from nausea. The three I helped all had burns on the majority of their limbs, their hands and arms so they were in more pain but would heal. Each I took great care to wrap my arms around their waist and drag them towards safety, leaving them on the bank of the Andros for the Illryian’s to deliver to the healers. 

It was when Tarquin emerged covered in burns that caused bile to rise in my throat. I barely had time to lean away from the fae I hauled before vomit spilled out. Varian held his barely conscious High Lord with one arm securely wrapped around Tarquin’s torso. His armor fell off from the leather straps burning off, revealing his right side consumed by the flames. The burns licked up his neck and extended down his leg, his pants falling apart at the hip. His knee joint was unrecognizable, just a mess of angry tissue and exposed white parts. 

Those of us who watched were quick to rush to their aid. It took a moment before any of us recognized that Varian too had burns extending up his left arm, all our focus directed on the High Lord. Varian’s arm was just as bad as Tarquin’s knee, a mess of muscle and a joint threatening to escape. I swallowed hard at the sight, willing my stomach to settle. 

When both had been taken from my sight, my attention was forced back to the woods to look for more and to tame the remaining fire. I found no more survivors afterwards and the fire had to be contained by help of the Autumn Court, though they couldn’t extinguish it. We all had to wait as it burned the remaining forest to ash and die out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After speaking with Cassian and Azriel, I found my feet leading me in a familiar direction. We would stay by the Andros until the danger had passed and then move. None of us planned beyond the immediate future: we all were waiting until Rhysand returned. Hopefully with Feyre. Cassian left to regroup the Illyrians. Azriel was going to accompany me on finding us tents to rest in but a spy approached him. He murmured something about the Autumn Court and vanished into the shadows. 

With the chaos and half the Summer Court leaders in the infirmary, I wasn’t stopped on my way to her tent. No one noticed the Night Court fae for once among them. All relief felt at the ease of my movement vanished when I found Cresseida’s tent empty and dark. Sticky with body fluids and sweat, I resisted sitting at her cushioned lounge area. I’d pulled my hair back into a high tail but the blonde strands ended now in brown and red clumps, adhering to my neck. I wanted to wait for her but I forced myself to seek out a bath. 

My bath turned out to be a cold visit to the Andros. I couldn’t remove my armor because I’d no one to watch my back so my bath was fully clothed. The freezing water was appreciated nonetheless. I had no burns but my skin was singed and sensitive. When the ice water flowed into every crevice of my armor, I found myself relaxing despite the temperature. I thoroughly washed my hair and picked over my armor until all the chunks came out. All that was left was the pieces stuck in the crevices or where I couldn’t reach and for tonight, that’d be tonight. 

Beaten and exhausted, I dragged myself back across the camp. Though the Summer Court’s camp was significantly more organized and I had to slip unseen across their ranks to Cresseida’s tent. I decided I’d wait for her return. I didn’t remove my sword or armor to try and get comfortable. _I was here to see if she was alright. Don’t confuse your standing in her life_ , I chided when my armor felt particularly restraining. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cresseida came in the next morning with Varian in tow. I had fallen asleep but woke well in advance of their arrival due to their bickering. “You’re not returning to the front until you’re healed,” Cresseida hissed. 

“I _am_ healed,” Varian insisted. I rose on unsteady and sleep-frozen feet, knowing I should have left before being found lurking. I shook out all evidence of discomposure and threw my shoulders back, adjusting my sword belt. 

“Maybe your skin looks healed but you’re certainly _not_ going into battle today. I shall handle the front without you. Tarquin shouldn’t be alone as is and we’re lucky that the healers maintain a constant vigil for him. He needs you to watch over him when they eventually leave his side.” Cresseida snapped. “That’s final. While Tarquin is unavailable, my word _is_ law and you will obey.” She threw back the tent flaps and found me standing front and center. Varian stood next to her, wearing only loose pants given by the healers. They both carried different pieces of his armor, all partially burned or destroyed by the flames. 

Outwardly, I was composed but I still felt like I was being caught burglarizing her home. “I came to see how High Lord Tarquin and Prince Varian were doing,” I stated, looking at Varian’s crystal blue eyes. He’d been burned. _I saw his burn._ I searched but there was no evidence left. “Is Tarquin already on his feet as well?” I asked, giving into my curiosity and inspecting Varian for all he was worth. 

“So you just stood here, in the dark, waiting?” Varian ground out, shifting so his left arm was pulled from my view. He didn’t have to remove it from sight for me to glean the truth of his health. His eyes were crystalline and sea blue, practically gleaming and the whites were perfectly clear. Even his skin had a healthy flush to it as if he’d returned from a satisfying spar rather than the healer’s tent. 

I didn’t want to lie but admitting the truth was so much worse. Cresseida saved me anyway by waving away Varian, “Ignore him. He’s in a mood,” Cresseida glared at her brother. “First he bites at Jules, then me and now you.” 

Varian bristled and crossed the tent to her lounge area. When he passed me, there was no mistaking the distrust in his glare. I didn’t take offense. I was lurking after all though not for malicious purposes. “The male should learn to hold his tongue if he expects to keep it. I won’t stand silent when they insult you and I won’t permit you to either.” 

“You do not _permit_ me anything,” Cresseida bit out, throwing her breast plate over the armor stand. “When I want to remove Jules’s tongue, I shall though…” she trailed off, voice growing darker, “I’d be far more interested in slowing his blood flow until he begged forgiveness.” 

My surprise at the dark turn her words took was swept away by Varian’s harsh shout, “ _Cresseida_.” Varian glanced between me and his sister, eyes full of fury. 

“She’s seen me work my magic, Varian,” she ground out. 

“I have,” I confirmed. “I don’t report on your sister,” I added though it only made Varian glare harder. I’d never had any issues before with Varian until I spent time with Cresseida and then I’d riled his protective instincts over his elder sister. 

“I’m sure,” he replied lowly, eyes switching back to Cresseida. “We’ve already handed over the Book of Breathings to that fae and now Court secrets? You’ve almost died on their account.” 

“That _fae_ just watched over your healing and Morrigan brought me home if memory serves.” Varian opened his mouth but Cresseida silenced him with a glare. I dazedly thought of Nesta, wondering if even the Night Court healers were brought here. Turning to me with hands on hips, Cresseida’s expression relaxed. “We were about to sit for breakfast. Care to join?” Frankly, I felt like a caged animal. If I had to wonder what it felt like for Rhysand being watched by his entire court in the wake of Feyre’s kidnapping, I suspected it felt similar to how I felt at the moment. I was ready to chew off my leg to escape. 

But Cresseida’s blue eyes kept my feet planted and erased all chances of leaving. Breathlessly, I agreed, “Sure.” I settled at the table at the place closest to the exit, resolving that I’d find out about Varian and Tarquin’s health and leave as soon as possible. Servants fluttered in with fresh clothes, a basin for washing and plates stacked with freshly caught fish. My stomach rumbled. 

Cresseida watched my hungry eyes with a pleased gleam in them. “I knew I’d convert you to our fare. Nothing compares to a fresh catch,” she nodded confidently to herself. Varian only bitterly served himself eggs served over tomato and salmon, barely looking up from his plate. 

“How is High Lord Tarquin?” I asked, serving myself oysters and searching for the cheese. 

Cresseida shook her head. “High Lord Thesan and his best healers spent the night with Tarquin. They assured me Tarquin was only in danger of dying from the pain but...if you heard his moan you’d know they were wrong,” Her hair was black from all the ash. The rosy flush of her high cheeks were completely covered in soot as well. In some places, sweat dripped and made her look striped. She chewed thoughtfully on her flatbread, dipping it in whatever sauces mixed on her plate. Crumbs and oils dotted her lips and chin but she continued on, unaware or uncaring. Probably both. “We were lucky High Lord Thesan could spare a healer for Varian.” 

My brows furrowed. It was incredibly lucky. Most of the healers were throwing all their effort into supporting Tarquin and the rest only saw those at risk of dying. That any of them had any magic at all to fix Varian’s burn was incredible in and of itself. My eyes went back to Varian’s left arm. _It’d been covered._ I’d seen the charred skin for myself. _Was I wrong? Was that just dirt?_ The scent of burning flesh had coated the air so I could have been mistaken. 

“I did not see a healer,” a voice floated into the tent. My back stiffened imperceptibly. I finished the oyster I held before turning to regard the intruder. “Only that _Night Court female_ and the old hag healer.” Unease settled in my stomach along with the oysters and the combination threatened another episode of upheaval. I sipped water from then on. 

Eris strode into the tent with ease. He rounded the table to sit across from me, between Varian to his right and Cresseida on the left. Wordlessly, he served himself to the flatbread but didn’t touch the curried fishes. Sensing my eyes, his golden orbs flicked to mine before going to his host. 

“I thought you had a brother to discipline,” Cressedia grumbled. 

Eris and I rarely interacted. Though it was our parents who arranged our marriage, something about being publicly shamed set a bad tone for all future interactions. _Who would figure?_ Now we kept to our ends of the earth and that had worked fine up until now. 

“My father wants me to establish if the Summer Court can be expected to march tomorrow. And I’ve skipped breakfast,” he shrugged. “Besides,” a slight upturn to his thin lips as he glanced around the table, “Jules hasn’t learned much past infancy. You can’t expect a dog to learn _too_ many tricks.” 

Cresseida rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen dogs with better manners.” She looked to her brother. “And the Night Court’s Master Healer saw to your wounds. You should seek them out and thank…” she trailed off, glancing at me.

“Madja,” I replied on cue though it was quiet, my thoughts far off. I’ve seen Madja work minor miracles but nothing on the scale as Varian’s burns. I licked my lips. My throat was dry. I forced more water down. Eris watched me with interest. 

“I will. I’ve much to thank her for like my early return to the field,” Varian nodded with a pleased smile. Cresseida didn’t match his satisfaction, raising a blackened eyebrow with thinly veiled impatience. I barely smiled at the obvious show of sibling love. 

“I didn’t see the old healer at the time. Just the female,” Eris cocked his head. “What was her name?” he tapped his chin, eyes searching us all. Varian leaned back on his cushions, watching Eris with a fairly confused look. Cresseida’s eyebrows furrowed. “Ah, yes, _Nesta_.” 

I’d prepared for his dramatic conclusion and I struggled to keep my face blank. Cresseida’s head snapped to Eris with honest shock, coming to the same conclusion as I had. I readied to prepare an excuse, that Nesta was a healer in training and Madja would have taught her well. 

Cresseida didn’t need my help. She straightened in the next moment and raised her chin incredulously. “Of course you’d find Nesta, I asked her to stay with my brother,” Eris’s face flattened, eyes narrowing but Cresseida seamlessly continued. “She’s a talented healer and if you intervened while she saw after Varian, High Lord Beron will have to pick a different son for his loathsome title.” 

“Cress,” Varian ground out. 

“Shut it. You said not to permit insult,” she bit out. “And I won’t tolerate meddling with your life.” Any ease in Eris vanished at her accusation and he straightened. His cheeks flushed red and the tent warmed. About to defend himself, Cresseida cut him off with an icy glower. “Varian will be watching over High Lord Tarquin today and should our High Lord recover in time, we shall march tomorrow and not a moment too soon. Go tell High Lord Beron that,” she jerked her chin to the door. 

With nothing holding him any longer, Eris spent a second judging Cresseida before rising from the table and striding out.

Varian watched him go and when he looked back, he was met with Cresseida’s full annoyance. “Honestly, Varian. I wonder about your judgement. Go see about Tarquin.” Varian pursed his lips and left us alone in the tent, eager to escape anymore of Cressida's orders. 

I stared resolutely at my plate, determined to keep the world from spinning in my vision. I couldn’t tell if I regretted staying for breakfast or not. It only left me more miserable but there was much I learned. If I didn’t strangle Nesta and die by Cassian’s hand, I might have time to piece together all the information I collected. Azriel might have to award me as honorary spy. 

When I dared a glance back from the table, Cresseida watched me. Thankfully, all traces of ire vanished. They were replaced by an easy, if not amused, smile on her cracked but full lips. I noticed belatedly that her eyelashes were the only part of her white hair that was untouched by ash. “Forgive Varian, please?” she asked. “He’s only trying to keep me safe.” 

“I wouldn’t forgive him if he _didn’t_ protect you,” I answered honestly. Cresseida’s brows raised and a pleasant smile grew. _Too honest_ , I cringed. 

Looking away, Cresseida’s eyes found the wash basin. She _hmpfed._ “Why bathe when I’m just going back to the battlefield in the next hour? It’ll have to wait till tonight.” Her eyes slid to mine, a curious look on them. My stomach was a riot, not all bad. Like I could pick out the truth from lies, I felt Cresseida could do that with me as well. In one glance of sea-blue, she dissected me and gleaned all my secrets. Each one of them practically answered when she called. “We have yet to have that dinner. How about we try for tonight?” 

My heart almost leapt but my centuries of training kept me stable. “Would you not wish to spend it with Tarquin? Or Varian?” I forgot their titles but she didn’t notice this time. Her hand twirled her sooty locks. I followed the twirling motion with interest. She must have lost all her decorative hair pieces in the fire: no shells, gold or silver trinkets remained. 

“I’ll see Tarquin before and I’ve seen _too_ much of Varian. He’s convinced he doesn’t need rest,” she sighed. I thought she’d mention Nesta but she kept silent. “So dinner?” she asked. 

I breathed in at the hopefulness in her tone. Without a thought for duty, I nodded. “Dinner.” 

**Morrigan:**

I found Nesta in the healers tents sitting on one of the low stools. She was bent over a book, squinting at the text like it just spat in her food. Her plate of beans and farro was precariously balanced on her knees. A spoonful en route to her mouth hung in the air. Oddly, I didn’t worry about it’s fate. She was perfectly still in time. I couldn’t see the rise and fall of her chest. The still air in the tent contributed to the painting she made. 

She looked at me. How she sensed me while still remaining entranced in her book and keeping her food stable was beyond me. She didn’t act like a young fae. Feyre. Cresseida. They acted like young fae. Elain and Nesta skipped the rash and awkward adjustment phase while powers settled in and went straight to suave control. Though Elain had the excuse of being lost in her visions and Lucien to guide her. Nesta, however, had no excuse. Swamped with magic she was never raised to control and thrown into a body that wasn’t hers. By every right, she should have been...messier. 

But here she was, looking at me with steel eyes and an intrigued brow. That was as much a welcome I could expect from the tight-lipped fae. “Morrigan,” she stated. Nesta wore in a muted blue dress, long-sleeved and high-necked as her usual wear. A dirty apron smudged with oil and blood was tied at her waist. A thick rope of braided hair fell down her shoulder, some stray hairs escaping to frame her angular face. Though she had escaped the awkward developmental phase of the fae, she hadn’t escaped the growing phase where body and limb elongated to form the lithe creatures we’re known to be. She was taller than me but wispy, like a tree, without a shred of muscle on her. Her appearance was quite misleading regarding her true strength. 

I strode to her, throwing up the sound barrier as I passed the beds of burned Summer Court fae. The sound barrier was excessive: these fae were consumed by their pain. Those that weren’t unconscious had their faces scrunched up tight, sweat pouring from them. Pain relief was minimal for the burned which made it one of the worst wartime injuries. 

Nesta straightened as my magic hit her. Her nose twitched. Setting her book and plate down, she rose to meet me. Her face was always a curious balance between ire and curiosity, like whether or not she was still deciding on how annoyed she should be. 

“You healed Varian,” I stated. 

Her face stiffened, paling even more than it normally did. 

“You did,” I sighed. “Nesta…” I wiped my hand over my face. Eris had already caught on though I had no idea why Eris was hovering around Varian enough to notice these things. I only begin to imagine how he became so suspicious. Nesta always smelled like a fire was nearby but it grew stronger when she used her magic, like the raw magic was close to the surface and attempting to break through. “You should not risk yourself like that. It’s reckless.” 

Her lips dipped down. 

“Eris is already suspicious though Cresseida did a good job at holding him off. You’re putting yourself in danger.” As I spoke, I could sense her withdrawing. Her arms wrapped around her waist while her eyes focused on a spot in the room. “Nesta, I don’t understand. Are you trying to expose yourself?” My fears for Nesta only began at her discovery. I knew the burden of keeping secrets well and hated that I encouraged her hiding but there were a host of reasons to keep it hidden. 

The High Lords didn’t react well to those that threatened them and Nesta threatened everyone’s existence. Though she never confirmed or denied the extent of her magic abilities, it was implied that the Cauldron was hers to command. This prospect shook me to my bones. A civil war would break out to contain or kill Nesta and then it would be a matter of time before we killed each other or Hybern took care of whoever remained. 

“You do not understand,” she replied, straightening. 

“Maybe I don’t,” I nodded. “But your decisions no longer impact only yourself.” When I said this, I was thinking of the rest of Prythian, the world at large. But Nesta’s eyes met mine with a glossy sheen and I knew she thought differently. My hands twitched. I wanted to reach her and enfold her into my arms. She didn’t look like she contained the power to end and begin worlds. She looked like she was made of glass.

She swallowed. “You’ve made your point.” 

“Nesta,” I begged, brows furrowing. She retreated further still. I sighed. “I just want to keep you safe.” She nodded curtly though she’d already turned her back, returning to her stool to reclaim her book and food. Conversation ended, I left the tent dejectedly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I dragged my feet for the rest of the long day. It only improved when Cresseida found me this time, informing me to come to dinner when I was free. She added on as a last-minute thought that I _should_ bathe before I come to her tent. My embarrassment at being told I smelled was enough of a distraction from my misery that I found myself laughing with the Summer Court female. 

I spent an excessive amount of time in my tent bathing after her instructions. I was paranoid my scent was unpleasant so I applied scented strawberry oils. When I knew I’d applied too much, I stopped fretting and left for the Summer Court’s camp. Azriel, Cassian and Nesta returned to the Relaran Pass but I lingered for tonight to stay with Cresseida. 

Her Court eyed me warily as I walked through their camp. I still wore my armor. Cresseida could strut about her own camp with no fear but the same could not be said for me, even within the Night Court camp. _Especially within the camp_ , I cringed when thinking my father was in residence but he kept out of Rhysand’s way and therefore, far from me. I envied the ease of the Summer Court. Though it was painfully naive to assume that it was just as it seemed, they appeared so open and unworried with one another. They had their politics like any other Court but I had a hard time imagining any of the fae I saw driving a stake through their child’s abdomen. 

I was right when I entered Cresseida’s tent. She was lounging on a cushion, dressed in the traditional Summer fashion of a long skirt and an even lengthier piece of cloth that draped over her neck. It hung freely over her breasts and was secured by a tie at her waist. It left the expanse of her relatively flawless torso on display. The curve of her breasts visible and tauntingly so. I followed the curve of her waist till it disappeared into her skirt. Everything was dyed a vibrant blue, no silver embellishment just yet. The color seemed dull in comparison to the sea glass of her eyes. She’d cleaned her hair and left it spread around her, no trinkets woven in just yet. The room was no longer bogged down by sweat. It was filled with the aromatic food and sweet lemon scent she carried. 

She watched me just as I inspected her, a smile playing on her lips. Neither of us quite sure how to proceed. We’d started this war with accusations and now were sitting to drink together. The way my heart jumped when she was near was not helping. I was a young fae all over again with her. 

“I trust my people. You can as well,” she gestured to my armor. “Wine?” she motioned to the table, already steaming with food and several bottles of wine. Summer Court wine was always bubbly, made from green grapes and had a salty tang that I enjoyed. Cassian said it was like drinking the ocean and Azriel didn’t prefer wine at all. Though Velaris had a red wine that when mulled over an open flame, spiced with cinnamon, anise and clove, could put all other wines to shame. 

_Cresseida will never taste that_ , my thoughts reminded me. 

Refusing to be dismayed, I slipped my fingers past the buckles of my armor. A few deft tugs and I was yanking off the heavy plate, settling it on the armor rack next to Cresseida’s. Her plate was a single piece of steel, shaped like a seashell. Mine was scaled. Hers was the stuff of fairytales and mine, considerably less so. 

I left my greaves and vambraces by the stand and sank down next to her. I wished I’d dressed casually, like the night when our Courts dined together. I wore the grey tunic and churidars that fit my armor and dark colors, ironically enough, never flattered me. 

Cresseida handed me a wine glass. “I’m sorry about Eris’s intrusion earlier. He’s more presumptuous than I could have thought possible,” Cresseida said, voice low. She swirled her own wine, staring deeply into her glass.

“Oh it is possible,” I sighed, relieved to find she’d already filled my glass. The wine was sweeter than I remembered. “You don’t have to apologize for him. We keep our distance but made no promises of civility.” I laughed then, shaking my head. I took another sip. “I’ve actually never spoken a word to him other than _hello_ …” right before our engagement was made public. I recalled the grey dress my mother tied me into. It was a traditional Night Court gown but she’d insisted we make it different from the centuries of gowns females wore before. Not a single piece of embroidery decorated it. Instead, the grey was woven with silver so thin and fine that it looked like it was made of moonlight. Set against my golden hair and brown skin, I was some combination of the sun and moon. 

My mother didn’t speak much but I could feel the pride in her eyes and, even though I thought the grey made me look washed out, I felt beautiful. I saw what she did and thought maybe this wasn’t a trap, but instead a door. 

Until I sat in the halls of the Autumn Court palace while the Court snickered at the lowly color I wore. Only the servants wore muted colors like grey or brown. My mother remained behind so I no longer saw myself through her eyes. I was a young fae, with newly Awakened magic and limited knowledge. I stood in one of the finest gowns alive and I might as well have worn rags for how I felt: awkward and out of place. I continually swallowed to keep my emotions choked down. 

My father stood to my left, reciting the extent of my magical abilities before the Male Court. He purposely neglected to mention that my mother taught me knife play. Knives or weapons of any kind were considered masculine in the Autumn Court but in the Night Court, power mattered above all else and vulnerability wouldn’t be tolerated among any of its citizens. It was already shocking enough that my magic by itself drove fae to kill themselves. 

High Lord Beron’s eyes, despite my breaking from tradition of the females, had burned. He was excited to collect a new weapon among his arsenal. He already had seven sons and Lady Juliette. When my father spoke to how traitors would rather admit their guilt than face my magic, High Lord Beron’s gaze was half-lidded. If we weren’t before a full court, he would have salivated. 

This bargain was one he could not lose in. Naturally, my child would be the eventual Heir to the Autumn Court and my second born, the heir to the Court of Nightmares. Beron would secure a powerful lineage and my Court would as well. Kier wanted two pieces of the Autumn Court and through my children, he’d collect. The first was the sheer devastation that fire inherently possessed. Even the weakest families in the Autumn Court could wreak havoc on a battlefield where fire was uncontained and prone to spreading. The second was multiple heirs. A single child was rare. Seven was unheard of. All my children, except the heir to the Autumn Court, would return to the Court of Nightmares. Kier secured himself an army with one deal. 

I’d lost myself in my thoughts, I almost ignored my father’s cue. In the Autumn Court, female’s curtsied instead of bowing. I sunk into curtsey befitting my station but not one that was overly subservient. I was not Beron’s subject yet. My father hissed the importance of keeping my chin high. 

I met Beron’s eyes when I looked up at the High Lord, expecting some type of order to rise. Holding my curtsey, I saw my future. He wore a lazy grin, reclining in his seat to fully appreciate the view of me at his command. I didn’t carry my weapons for obvious reasons; I knew in the Autumn Court, I never would. I barely noted Eris, standing to his father’s right. He was irrelevant while his father held the throne. _This was my future_ , I sucked in. 

I was so terrified that I only managed a small _hello_ before sinking into a silence born out of panic. 

“Morrigan?” Cresseida’s soft inquiry drew me back to the present. Her eyes followed the curve of my face and I swore she possessed the same truth magic I did. She knew and saw more of me than what was good for her. 

“Yes?” I asked, voice just above a whisper. 

Eyeing me above the rim of her wine glass, she smiled in a warm way that almost appeared pitying. “Why do you always look like you’re contemplating a battle?” she asked. I furrowed my brows. “I’ve never seen someone’s eyes flit around as fast as yours do. It’s like you’re chasing your thoughts in your mind.”

“I never noticed,” I shrugged, reaching for a skewer of fried fish. I chewed to distract myself. It was easier being direct with her before I realized the depth of my feelings. Then, she was an ally with a minimal impact on my life. Now, her approval practically hung the sun in my sky. I wanted her to see me, the whole of me, and accept me as she did her Court. 

“Would you tell me what is on your mind?” she questioned. I licked my lips, focusing on the peppery taste assaulting my tongue, as I contemplated her question. Where could I start? More importantly: where would I end? I was a never ending cycle of worries and to thrust them onto Cresseida felt like an abuse of a tentative friendship. “I was serious when I vowed never to speak about Nesta.” 

I startled. “What?” 

“I never told Varian. Or Tarquin.” She nodded vigorously. “I know Nesta healed Varian-”

My lips smacked together as I fought for a response. There she went, surprising me again. “But how?” 

“Tarquin was covered in burns,” she whispered, voice heavy. “No healer was spared. The only one I can think of performing a miracle is Nesta. Unless you’re about to tell me Madja has secret healing abilities?” she eyed me, returning to the table to serve a platter of food for us to pick over. I reclined further into the cushions. She topped our wine glasses off before laying down next to me. She rested on her stomach, craning her long neck to me. Her hair ran down her back in beautiful, white tendrils. She looked carefree, relaxed as she was. I wanted to give her Adriata back just so I could see her relax in her own home too. 

I could have lied. Madja, though partially receiving training in the Dawn Court, was a Night Court healer. We kept our lives secret for the reason of protecting each other. If I said Madja had unknown ability, Cresseida would be forced to believe me. But I didn’t want to. “Yes, Nesta healed Varian,” I bit out. My misery from my failed conversation with Nesta returned like it never left. 

_Who was acting reckless now?_

Cresseida already knew about Nesta. Lying about this wouldn’t take that away. “You promise you won’t tell?” I stared at my wine glass, wondering how I could drown myself in it. Would I never approve of a single decision I made? Was there no peace for me? 

Cresseida reached out, pulling my chin to face her. I might have stopped breathing. “If the price I pay for my brother’s health is a secret, then I’ll gladly pay it,” she vowed solemnly. Our wine and food forgotten.

“I don’t want you to choose our Court over your own,” she’d once told me she’d do anything for her Court. Regardless of how she felt about me, I didn’t want her to make a decision she’d regret as a young fae was wont to do. “You should not have to sacrifice so heavily.” 

Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight with intensity. “I don’t regret my decision Under the Mountain,” she declared. “I protect my Court by keeping this from them.” Her fingers found a curl of my blonde hair and twirled it absently between us. 

“That is a double-edged blade,” I intoned, watching the golden strand slip over her index finger. 

“Then I fall on it willingly,” she said without hesitation, fierce even when she accepted the possibility of self-annihilation. Her eyes flicked over my face, searching for a glimmer of understanding. All my thoughts could produce was the hurt when secrets were eventually revealed.

“That is not something I would wish for you.” 

“Morrigan,” she called, drawing my eyes from where she captured my hair. At one point, we’d traded words in whispers. Our faces leaned towards one another like we were conspiring. _Weren’t we?_ This was what conspirators did: told each other what the rest of the world would never hear or know. She tugged my hair, leaning closer. “I know what I want for myself,” she assured me. Her eyes flicked to my lips, giving me time to back away but I didn’t want to. She pressed her lips to mine and it felt like a silent vow. 

**Nesta:**

Morrigan walked away. I listened to her retreating footsteps, each one stepping on me, driving me further into myself. I could have stopped her and I didn't understand why I hadn't. It seemed even her magic couldn't pull all the truth from my lips. Instead, these secrets took root inside me and rotted me from the inside out. If I were to uncover them, everything would have to be brought to light and some things were better left unknown.

I knew the risks she spoke of and that using my magic had been an incredibly stupid leap of faith. I hadn't realized I had any faith left until I had already healed Varian, the entire time praying not to be found out. Still, I healed him. I knew what danger awaited me. I still did it. I wanted to help. I hold no attachment to Varian, the stoic Prince of Adriata, but Cresseida...she’d risked her life for me. Was it not fair for me to do the same? 

_Lying won’t help you_ , I chided. Partially, I wanted to repay Cresseida but I’d pulled on my magic for selfish needs. I wanted to see it heal. I knew magic like this was bound to destroy. Even with control like mine, the threat of it existed and therefore the chance of decimation remained relevant. It was an eventuality. Ruin would come because I lived. 

Given the chance to breathe a sliver of good into this world, I took it even when I risked myself and the fate of this war. Morrigan was right. I was selfish. Momentary self-satisfaction for the price of devastation was selfish.

By the time I’d collected my thoughts, I lost interest in my book and my food. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More Water Wraith scales were secured for those who truly needed them. I aided Madja in replacing them with the burned Illyrians. Varian’s miraculous healing went unnoticed. No healer other than Madja and I had seen him and therefore, the extent of his wounds was unknown. He was a lucky case. Healers tended not to question health when it came because it was so rare. 

Madja’s eyes followed me around the tent though she didn’t mention my interference with Varian’s healing either. She was aware. She knew healed Cassian. She didn’t mention it. She didn’t try to lecture me on my faulty ethics or recklessness. When she neared, she’d inspect my work and critique when needed but otherwise she kept her thoughts to herself. And she did have thoughts. Eyes that bright always had them. 

“The healers have finished with High Lord Tarquin. It’s only a matter of time before they see to the remaining injured,” she nodded solemnly, cutting strips of white cloth for bandages. It was unnecessary to make more while in the Dawn Court’s camp but Madja didn’t tolerate the possibility of unpreparedness. “We’ll likely return when they do.”

I nodded, resealing the jar of scales after finishing with the last Illyrian. I’d be finding myself a new dress even if I had to strip it off another fae. _That_ or washing the one I wore though I’d no idea how to do that in a camp that wasn’t my own. Luckily, all the Illyrians weren’t even conscious to let me know how I might have smelled. Madja had kept them all sedated on the firm principle that their wounds would make them more viscous. She kept me making sleeproot tea every two hours, having a whole pot on hand for when they came around. 

“I’ve never seen Illyrians sleep for so long,” she murmured. “What did you do for the tea?” 

“Added sugar,” sleeproot tea tasted tart. I figured they would swallow more if it tasted better. Illyrians had a slight intolerance for raw sugar but since none of them choked, I assumed it was alright. 

Madja’s lips turned into a wry smile. “I suppose partial poisoning in exchange for restful sleep is a fair trade.” 

I straightened. “I’ve seen Cassian consume half a cake. Sugar can’t be poisonous.” I’d dropped the formalities in my shock. Luckily, all who were near were unconscious. _And poisoned, apparently._

When Elain had discovered her talent in baking, Cassian had taken advantage of her products with glee. Though it only soured later when he went to train, it didn’t stop him. He had an undeniable sweet tooth that Rhysand and Azriel didn’t share. Morrigan would refuse until nighttime, like myself, and then sneak to the kitchen for some warm milk and whatever pastry Elain crafted. 

Madja’s eyebrows lifted. I realized my mistake. Cassian was a unique case in all areas. I should know better than to base my knowledge of the Illyrian physiology off a sample size of one, and an outlier at that. “If marigolds tasted good, I’m sure General Cassian would eat them too,” she snorted. Marigolds, indigenous to the Night Court, were poisonous to Illyrians. Madja ensured one of the first books I learned from cover to cover was a text on the Illyrian population. It was the only book of its kind and it never left Velaris’s library. Illyrians, immune ash and faebane, appeared to have few weaknesses. Sugar had been listed but it was written off as a _moderate concern._ Marigold poisoning had no treatment. It was no wonder that when Spring came, citizens were paid for the amount of wild marigold they could uproot. “Sugar is a poison to Illyrians though in the doses you’d consume it raw, it’s only a mild irritant. That said, it still upsets the stomach and leads to drowsiness.” 

“I’ll not mix in sugar,” I dipped my chin. I saw her point even though it should have been obvious to begin with. I looked to the sick beds, attempting to hide my flush of embarrassment from the wise healer. 

Madja, surprisingly quick when she meant to be, rested a hand on my shoulder. It was heavy since she leaned on me. Smiling down, she whispered conspiratorially, “I think we should make an exception.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s a wonderfully clever idea.” I didn’t try to suppress my pleased smile this time. 

The tent opened but from the sweet turn of the air, I knew who entered without looking to confirm. Though it was likely a figment of my imagination, the room brightened. “Lady Elain,” Madja smiled, dipping her head. “If you’ve come to tell me that death has been asking after me, you can let her know that she’ll be asking for a little longer. I’ve a scarf I’ve been meaning to finish.” Madja’s dark humor was the most surprising part of her character though for one who works with life and death so often, I suppose it’s lost its color. 

Elain’s serene expression twitched with amusement. “Healer Madja, I’m here to see Nesta.” I frowned, wishing my sister could have disbanded all notions of Madja’s death. 

_She’s fae. She’ll be fine._

“Ah,” Madja nodded. “Then I’ll find lunch for us in the meantime,” she rubbed her paper-dry hands together, shuffling past Elain. 

Elain didn’t remark on Madja’s leaving, stepping aside politely and bowing her head as the elder fae went. When we were alone with only the unconscious Illyrians as our audience, Elain’s mask cracked when she faced me. “I thought I recalled several fights between Feyre and you about menial labor,” she began, smile growing. She radiated happiness. “And that you weren’t fit for handiwork?” she questioned, eyeing the soldiers on the bed. 

I recalled those arguments too. _Stupid arguments_ , I could have rolled my eyes. They all seemed stupid in hindsight. Feyre and I exchanged blows like it helped us breathe better. All the nights I fought with Feyre, wishing her gone seemed cruel now, knowing what I know. “I maintain that I am not but it is something,” I said flatly. 

It was something other than my magic, the Cauldron and Amren. Even reading couldn’t consume my mind and keep me from ruminating on everything that was wrong. Healing forced my attention away. It gave me a focus. It was also the only good I could contribute. I didn’t want to fight like Feyre. I couldn’t see the future like Elain. All I could do for now was bandage wounds and help Cassian with his armor. 

“You’ve a good touch for it,” Elain’s round eyes fixed on mine. They were colored like warm pools of honey. Madja’s praise was welcome and appreciated. Elain’s was cherished. I kept her words close to my heart like they could fill it. 

I watched her approach. The Day Court garb wholly offended my tastes but I could see where they fit Elain's perfectly. Loose, billowing dresses perfect for a range of tasks with touches for beauty and aesthetic. Elain's were dyed in bright colors to her taste, definitely not her Court's, and secured with golden cord at her waist. I suspected those came straight from Helion. Though they reached her ankles and wrists, pieces of the fabric were cut away to reveal sun-kissed skin. Today, the dress's neck was wide to expose her collarbones.

More and more, she kept her hair down or secured with small ties. Wherever she gardened, for not a soul could convince me she left behind that hobby, she must have forgone her sun hat. Her cheeks were freckled and skin much tanner than mine. I'd always been the palest of my sisters but Elain never burned as I did; she was lucky in that way.

“I wish I was only here to visit you,” she admitted quietly. As a Seer, she’d enjoy rare visits for pleasure. If any. All faces she knew and therefore no one and no where was above the shadow of her visions. 

I swallowed. Dread entered me the moment Elain said she was here to see me. I knew this was coming so I didn’t gawk or waste time. I faced it. "Why didn't you warn me?" I asked. I'd spent my younger years angry with Feyre that I had no experience directing that anger at Elain. Now, it felt wrong and also long overdue.

_This is wrong._

I continued anyway.

_Hadn't you just told Cassian to trust Elain?_

I shook away my rational side.

"Warn you?" Elain gasped as if I'd struck her. I waited to smell the salt of her tears, biting my cheek _. You are doing this_. I swallowed hard. They never came. Elain circled me, standing eye level with my chin and furious. "I would have had you not been hiding your future from me as if that isn't a decision in and of itself," she hissed. If I was unready to feel angry with Elain, she was just as shaken by the experience. Her small hands fisted at her side, resisting the urge to fidget. Her back was rigid to keep her posture perfect. She was far from the sister of my memories but closer to herself. I bit back my smile then. "By changing your future, you only succeeded in risking your life and terrifying me to death." 

"I did not want you prying into my future,” I admitted. My anger was fleeting. _This was Elain_. 

“I did not ask,” Elain stated. I flinched. I made that very same argument to Morrigan a moment before. I did not ask for my magic and yet I worked with what I was given. Elain was only doing the same. Changing my mind and future was only interfering. “But if you stopped fighting my visions, I could help.” 

I shook my head. 

“You’ve decided then,” Elain confirmed, eyes hardening in a way I’d never seen. 

“My decisions are my own.” There was a way I could stop this madness and I was going to take it. The risks I accepted just as my family did their own. All of them sacrificed so much while I watched, hoping that each day I bided my time they came home. I could afford to risk it all to end this war. 

Elain regarded me quietly. She’d grown. It pained me to know she was forced to. Elain’s sacrifice was greatest in my opinion. She had a life set ahead of her, a life she wanted with her whole heart. All she’d ever done was try to make the world around her beautiful and it’d repaid her efforts by granting her visions of tragedy. 

I ground my teeth. My magic drew closer to the surface. The tumult of my emotions strengthened. I wished I could have shielded Elain from having this happen to her. _I could make the necessary sacrifices._

Elain reached out, undaunted by my stirring magic. Her hand rested on my forearm. “You never listened to reason before so I do not expect that to change now,” she jested but it was half-hearted. “So I will have to inform you that you won’t be making those decisions alone.” I frowned at my younger sister. Her round eyes, unblinking and all seeing, engulfed my thoughts. “If you wish to walk yourself off a cliff, I suppose I’ll have to join you.” 

**Morrigan:**

Every kiss I’ve ever had led me off a cliff of emotions. Like diving into a sea, I was pulled into the moment and passion without regard for the world around me. It was easy to get lost when you’re looking to escape. 

All my previous lovers I pursued until the tension threatened to snap the two of us in half. This was different. Not only because I hadn’t pursued Cresseida.  _ Hadn’t I?  _ I did go searching for her when I could, rationalizing my erratic behavior and confusing it with my duty. Yet I didn’t feel as if I did. If Cresseida hadn’t leaned forward to kiss me, I would have kept perfectly still. I could have left her tent, perfectly content to have spent my night talking with her. Centuries could pass by and I’d still feel the same way even if she never reciprocated my feelings. There were people who just felt good. Cresseida, despite her blunt exterior and our bumpy start, was one of them. 

When we kissed, I didn’t feel the rush as I had before. Time slowed instead and I found myself running my tongue over my lips, savoring the taste she left behind. Sweetened lemon filled my nostrils. Her lips were pillow-soft. Plush. Magnetically, I fell back into her. I reached my hand around her head, drawing her close. I twirled her white locks around my fingers but not tightly. Her round eyes watched my half-lidded gaze, very drunk on pleasure and only slightly from Summer Court wine. Her tongue flitted across my lips and I opened my mouth, pulling her closer. I could taste the wine from her and the salty tang of the sea that ran through her blood. 

This close to her, I imagined her pulse under my hand was synced with her magic and the tides. They all seemed to work so closely for her. If she had any senses on my body, she would feel my own racing heart. I stayed relaxed, determined to draw out the moment, even though all my desires were wreaking havoc inside me. They were all distant. I was used to ignoring my own heart so it was simple to exercise control. I spent my time memorizing the round curve of her high cheeks and how her flush made them darken with a rosy crimson. 

All her touches felt tentative as mine probably felt equally hesitant, like we weren’t sure if the other was quite real or not. I swept my thumb over her jaw. Her hand clasped my neck. It occurred to me that she might have liked the pace my heart set. Or maybe she caused it. I laughed breathily then that as much as I worried my magic would influence her, maybe she had the same worries too. 

“What is it?” she asked, smiling softly. She kissed me again, this time taking my lower lip between her teeth. 

“I don’t think I’m coherent enough to explain,” I admitted. If I opened my mouth, only gibberish would spill out. All my insecurities along with it. I didn’t want to ruin this peace with my ramblings. This moment deserved to be casted in bronze and given a plaque to memorialize it.

She raised a brow in challenge. Pressing her hand on my shoulder, I leaned back into the cushions. Straddling me, she accidentally spilled her wine over my grey tunic. I chuckled, enjoying the proof of her hurriedness. Her blush deepened. I waved it off. It was probably my last clean tunic but I didn’t care. It was grey and ugly anyway. Her long navy skirt hiked up to her waist and I was fully distracted by the new expanse of thigh, warm and pressing against me.

She bit her lip, downing the rest of her glass before setting it on the table. I mimicked her. We were a pace from her likely downy soft cot but we remained on the cushions anyway. Unable to resist, my hands gripped her waist and thigh. Her skin was as soft as her lips. Mine wasn’t rough but I had a few scars I collected over the years. My hands were always calloused though. If she had imperfections, I’d never be able to find them. 

Her lips found my neck. I bowed my head back, exposing the skin to her sensitive attention. Her fingers intertwined with mine, raising my one hand above my head. Her white hair fell to either side like a curtain, catching the candlelight and shimmering like moonlight. While she kissed and nibbled my pulsepoint, her free hand traveled the length of my torso. She brushed against my breast, my ribcage and waistline. All my nerves knotted themselves and I curled my toes, a pleased breath escaping me. I felt her lips curve into a smile at my neck. I smiled with her. 

When her hand came to the edge of my tunic, my muscles tightened. Her fingers lifted. Cold air greeted my skin. I reached out, catching her wrist in a freezing grip. She drew from my neck to search my eyes. “Is this too fast?” she asked, a tad breathless. Her eyes drew back to my neck.  _ I might have a hickey _ , I thought dazedly. Bruises healed quickly but it amused me to no end. 

“I…” I started. How did I explain? Should I have stopped her or should I have carried on as if everything was normal? “I have a few scars,” I prefaced, avoiding her eyes. 

She smiled. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she taunted. 

Her joke brought a fleeting smile to my lips. “I don’t think mine are quite the same,” I reasoned. She frowned, rising up off me. My stomach sank. I instantly regretted speaking when her weight left mine. My fingers trailed her arm as if I could keep her from moving. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, brows furrowing. She ran her eyes over my loose grey tunic and pants, like she could see through to my scars underneath. 

Propping up on my elbows, I swallowed before I tugged my tunic up and over my head. Ever since I’d been old enough to learn knife play, I’d worn breast bindings. Just like tying my hair, it was necessary to get work done. Though when my father had gotten through with me following my descent, I extended my breast bindings down my entire torso. For a time, I wrapped my hips, waist and breast up like a piss poor excuse for a gift. Only until recently when the war forced efficiency did I revert to binding my breasts. This left my abdomen visible for Cresseida’s eyes to swallow whole. 

All the Courts knew of my shame. My father, upon casting me out, had notified the Courts. He didn’t view me as the  _ family’s shame  _ anymore. My decisions were my own. Yet from Cresseida’s gaze, I guessed the full extent of his actions were never spread. In an attempt to destroy my womb, he’d riddled my torso with stabs. Little puncture holes were all that remained. His ignorance of the female anatomy is the only reason I still continue to bleed and remain heir. 

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood while she took in the damage. 

The last touch he left was the word  _ waif _ . Madja had done her best to heal the words but the outline of them remained. As if the brand could remove his magic from my veins and his golden colouring from mine. As if he alone could disinherit me. 

“This was your father,” Cresseida whispered, eyes round as disks. One hand pressed to her mouth, the other caught suspended between our bodies. Somehow agreeing to that simple truth made it worse. I couldn’t speak, my tongue useless and heavy in my mouth, so I nodded. It was the horror in her voice, I guessed. The horror of knowing the cruelty that existed not only in this world but within our own families. 

When her fingers grazed the rounded scar tissue, I tried not to flinch though Cresseida must have felt it anyway. She pulled back, restraining herself for the moment by clasping her hands till they bled of all color. “Is he dead?” she asked quietly, eyes taking in what her fingers couldn’t. 

“No,” I found my voice to grind out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes lowered till I couldn’t see their blue depths. Shadows filled the space beneath them while she spoke in a low whisper, “Is your High Lord uncaring or ignorant?” I recoiled. “I assume he knew what went on so that makes him uncaring or maybe inept.” I opened my mouth but Cresseida wasn’t finished. “And don’t talk to me about Court politics. I’d pull his beating heart from his chest.” 

“If Rhysand killed my father, the Court would openly rebel.” 

“ _ Politics _ ,” she cursed, thighs squeezing around me.

I forged on. “I am heir even if my father resents the very fact. If he dies by our hands, we’d cause a civil war. I won’t risk that just to satisfy my own petty desires for revenge.” I’d considered it too. I wanted to. Each time I saw Kier, I was reminded that I could kill him if I tried. If I dared. But I would lead the Dark Bringers one day and the rest of my Court too. It was my only chance to transform my home into something worth living in. If I took his throne with bloodshed, I’d be killed in my sleep or poisoned at dinner. It wouldn’t matter. They’d find a way with me living among them and if they couldn’t get to me, they’d reach my family.

If I could avoid this by silently biding my time, I’d accept it. 

“Petty?” Cresseida asked, eyes searching mine. 

What was worse than the fact my own father did this to me, was that I was confirming all the rumors and horrors surrounding the Night Court. In Cresseida’s dread-filled face, I knew she’d never be able to separate the Night Court from Kier’s actions. 

“Is being heir to that Court worth it?” she asked quietly, hand pressed flat against the high-rising waist of my churidars that cut off her view from the rest of my scars. 

“What else is there for me?” I returned. 

Her eyes hardened with intensity. Her hand seized mine, intertwining her fingers with mine where after she pressed our clasped hands to the center of her chest. Her heartbeat was a distant thud beneath my hand to communicate the fervor of her emotions. “You’d  _ never  _ have to fear this in the Summer Court,” she assured. I breathed in slowly, eyes widening. “I’d choke the fae that dared.” 

She said the words I wanted to hear and the exact words I couldn’t refute. If I gave up this foolhardy mission of mine, I’d never have to live in secret. I’d let the Court of Nightmares pass to the next cruel master and wash my hands of that horror. But I’d also be giving up on everyone inside it as well. “I want to make it a better place, Cresseida,” I confided quietly, thumb absently stroking the skin of her thigh. She squeezed my hand tighter, shaking her head. “Would you give up Adriata for me?” I asked. 

She  _ tsked  _ in exasperation. “Our Courts are not the same,” she stated.

Instead of taking offense, her words only drove my heels in further. “And that is precisely the problem,” I agreed. “I won’t let others suffer in my place.” I rose from the cushions, feeling cold even with her comfortable weight on me. I picked my tunic back off the ground to shirk it back on. It smelled salty like Summer Court wine. 

She slipped off my lap, kneeling by my side. “Morrigan…” 

I rose to my feet, straightening my appearance. Next went my armor as I could not walk around unguarded within my own Court. That was a Summer Court luxury I could not afford myself. Tying my greaves messily, I puffed a breath of frustrated air. My hair got in my vision. “I wish I could stay here and never leave,” I admitted when my vambraces proved trickier. I didn’t notice when she rose to stand before me. She pushed my hand away, taking my wrist in hers to adjust the vambrace herself. Neither of us were happy with how the night had gone but I took her aid as a positive sign. She met my eyes begrudgingly. “But my Court is capable of good and I won’t let it be defined by the evil,” I reaffirmed, feeling none of the bravery I put out. 

I wanted to rest in the Summer Court. It would be painless to take Cresseida’s hand and return to the cushions, kissing and exploring while the world spun round. I didn’t want to keep battling the rest of my life but my feet insisted I stand my ground. 

Cresseida bit her cheek, shaking her head. She huffed out again. Her hand still clasped mine though I wore all my armor now. “I will have to trust your judgement,” she admitted. “But I do not want to see you swallowed by the bad either.” 


End file.
